If Walls Could Talk
by Yelena Katarina
Summary: Draco Malfoy is furious over his father's arrest, and it's all Harry's fault. But this time, Potter & his friends won't get away with it. He's got a plan that will tear their apart world...Or perhaps tear apart his own...D/Hrm Book 5 follower
1. Malfoy's Malice

Draco was, to say the very least, pissed off. The portrait of two old wizards peered down at him, whispering about the scowling 6th year youth now pacing back and forth in front of the Slytherin fireplace. The bearded one snickered, and the blond boy swirled around to face them, robes twirling.  
  
"And what the hell are you laughing at, you slimy little git!?" Draco's eyes squinted at the wizard, who at first was taken aback, but was now outright pointing and laughing. Something smelt like smoke.  
  
Draco looked to the ground and saw the edge of his robes glowing with embers. He cursed loudly and began stamping out the burn. *Stupid school robes, always shoddily made! Ruined on the first week of school!* He thought to himself. *Father will simply have to buy me new ones.*  
  
Ah, there was the problem, though. Lucius Malfoy, for all his cleverness and cunning, had still been unable to get away from Dumbledor in the Department of Mysteries. Draco thought of his father, awaiting a full trial before the Wizengamot. His scowl grew in intensity. Oh this was all Potter's fault!  
  
Harry Potter.Harry Potter and his infuriating cohorts Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger! He hated them more than any insipid house elf! All that arrogance and attitude, all that fame that went to Potter's head, it was all what started this. Perhaps it was the influence of that Mudblood whore, Granger, which made Potter do what he did. Potter was the one who put his father in jail, the one who announced to the world in papers that his father was a Death Eater. Family friends had dissociated themselves over the summer months, and Narcissa drew even further into her distance and detestation toward her son. Crabbe and Goyle were beginning to drift away as well, still remaining by his side, but not as often. *Understandable, of course,* thought Draco. * Can't risk their hides as much anymore. After all, their parents were named as well.* Named by none other than Harry Potter. Draco's rage grew. His quickly grabbed a Remembral from a first year and threw it across the room, shattering it upon the stonewall of the Slytherin dungeon. Scowling, he turned to the fire, as the small first year ran whimpering to his dormitory.  
  
Oh yes, Harry had ruined everything for Draco. He had ruined his summer, his familial ties, his allies. He had ruined the Malfoy name. He had ruined everything, right down to the burnt edge of his robes. And, by God, Draco would make him pay. 


	2. Cat & Mouse

Hermione ran up through the Fat Lady's picture and into the Gryffindor common room, setting down Crookshanks and throwing her trunk so that it slid across the room.  
  
"RON! HARRY! GINNY! ARE YOU HERE!?" She shouted at the top of her lungs. Crookshanks bristled at the noise, peered up at her malevolently, and trotted off to hide underneath an overstuffed chair, waiting for the next person to sit down for an attack.  
  
"What's with all the yelling? Who's the screamer down there?" A bright red head of hair peaked around the corner of the dormitory staircase. "Hey! Hey, Harry! Guess who it is!" Ron Weasley came bounding down the steps, nearly missing the last one. He straightened himself, face flushed, when Harry finished his own decent. Hermione hugged Harry, and went to hug Ron, but awkwardly hesitated. It had been like this for years. Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"How's it been, Hermione? I thought you'd be staying at Ron's this summer, but when I saw him, you were no where to be found." Harry said to her. He had grown taller, and was nearly catching up to Ron. Ron, if one could believe, had continued to grow, now looking as if someone had laid him out on a stretching rack.  
  
"Well, my summer was horrid! I thought my parents, being that they are muggles and all, would never have heard or even bothered with the whole V- Voldemort return-Ron, stop shuddering-but the moment I stepped off the train and found them, they were asking all sorts of questions! Seems that they bought their own owl, to try to understand wizarding culture, and have been getting The Daily Prophet all last year. They barely let me out of the house, they were so scared! So I wasn't able to go to Ron's. But I did get a lot of reading done! And do you know my mother actually insisted on driving me here instead of me taking the train? That's why I'm so late. She actually thinks Lord Voldemort would get me on the Hogwarts Express!" Hermione turned around at a small yelp. Seamus Finnigan had mistakenly sat on the chair over Crookshanks, and was now trying to pry the orange fur ball off his leg. "Crookshanks, play nice! Oh, Seamus, is it really necessary to treat my cat that way!?"  
  
Hermione turned back to them. "Um, yeah, anyway," Harry muttered. "I was kind of stuck in the house too.Dumbledor's orders."  
  
"He forced you to keep away from my house?" Ron looked incredulously at him. "Look, I know Fred and George can get carried away, but they're not dangerous."  
  
Harry looked sullenly at the floor. "It's not that. Dumbledor has his reasons."  
  
"But anything is better than the Dursleys!"  
  
"I guess you could say they're what keep me alive, even if they are disagreeable."  
  
Harry looked uncomfortable, so Hermione quickly changed the subject. "We should be heading down to breakfast, shouldn't we?"  
  
The trio made their way down to the Great Hall, seating themselves with the other Gryffindors, who were moaning over the schedules that were being handed out by Professor McGonnagal.  
  
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Draco strode into the Great Hall, still brooding, and sat down on the corner of the Slytherin table. He stared across the hall, sneering at the "Golden Three" beneath the red and gold banners of Gryffindor. God how he hated them!  
  
Pansy Parkinson walked over with a twisted smile on her ugly face, and sat down next to him. "Morning, Draco." She shuffled a little closer to him, still suffering from her unrequited love for him. Draco totally ignored her presence, still scowling. "Something wrong?" No reply. She took a look to wear he was glaring. She suddenly understood, and figured this would be the perfect chance to gain a few points from her crush. "Ah, Potty Potter's still got you down? He really is such a show-off. Can't stand him, really. But the worst of them is that frizz ball Granger." Pansy ground her teeth. "Stupid little twit."  
  
Draco grunted in approval. Pansy took this as a good thing and continued.  
  
"You know, there's nothing I wouldn't like more than to bring them down. They damn near run the school. I wish I could do something."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. "What exactly did you have in mind?"  
  
"Well, I'd be happy just taking care of that mudblood, Granger. I want to ruin her." Pansy glowered at the back of Hermione's head. "You know, I heard that she and Weasley have a little thing going on. A lot of tension between them, if you know what I mean."  
  
"Is that so?" Draco's eyes widened. This is good news. Draco caught a glimpse of his reflection in his goblet of pumpkin juice; Dear God, he had those Malfoy looks. That will definitely come in handy. And Granger and Weasley as a potential item could work to his advantage. All he would have to do is work his way in there, devise a scheme to tear the two apart at the height of their feelings. Why, it could possibly even split up the whole trio! Pansy, hideous though she was, could be an adequate aide in his plans. He'd simply have to use her to his benefit. Draco stood up from the table and smiled down on Pansy. She began to blush.  
  
"Thank you, Pansy. You've certainly brightened my day." He took her sweaty hand and bent over it for a quick peck, than walked out of the Great Hall.  
  
Things were definitely coming along well. 


	3. Detentions

"Double Potions with Slytherin! And in the morning of our first day back!" Ron groaned and slouched against the desk. The dungeon was rather humid, the September air not quite cooling off yet.  
  
"I'll be surprised if we don't bake in here. It'll be worse once we light the fires for our cauldrons." Harry wiped the sweat out of his eyes, absentmindedly elbowing Hermione, who dropped her books and quills. She and Ron both bent down to get them, but having a little trouble as they stared at each other.  
  
"Y-You.uh, you got everything?" Ron stuttered, piling the books and scattered papers into Hermione's arms.  
  
Hermione quickly averted her eyes. "Oh yeah, yeah I have it all." She cracked a grin. "Suppose I was just lucky the inkbottle didn't drop."  
  
A loud 'SLAM!' reverberated in the room, quaking the desks, and Hermione's inkbottle tottered to the floor. Professor Snape swifted down on her. His greasy hair was worse with all the heat.  
  
"Having trouble holding on to your things, Miss Granger? Perhaps you'll learn how to in detention, tonight 5:30 sharp. And 10 points off from Gryffindor." Snape straightened at Harry's astonished face, glowering at him as he explained to Hermione. "You've ruined my floor, Granger."  
  
He pivoted and walked to his desk, where he began to explain the day's lesson. Draco and the other Slytherins turned around and smiled at them.  
  
Harry leaned over to the two others. "Detention!? For an accident!?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Excessive. But don't worry, Hermione, it won't be too bad." He patted her hand, and she looked up to him. They held their gaze for a second too long.  
  
"Ronald Weasley! I'd ask that you refrain from your romantic interests while you are in my class. Or must I take another few points from Gryffindor?" Snape said icily. Ron quickly shifted in his seat.  
  
*So it is true!* Draco thought to himself. *This plan may be easier to work out than I thought.*  
  
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"And when you're washing those, do try not to drop any. I don't want to be missing any when I return." Snape warned. He walked briskly out of the dungeon classroom to the faculty meeting Dumbledore was holding.  
  
Hermione sighed to herself. Her first night back and here she was scrubbing crusted Temacula Tentacles out of potion jars. Her fingers burned in the scalding water. She reached for the bar of soap and held it in her hands. A clearing throat startled her, her hand squeezing the soap bar so that it flew in the air.  
  
"Really now, Granger, you're turning out to be quite the klutz." A harsh voice said behind her.  
  
Hermione turned around, spotting Pansy. She sighed and picked up the soap. This was not her night! "What do you want, Parkinson?"  
  
She smirked. "First time you've seen me since last year, and this is how you say hello? I'm surprised, honestly, that one could be such a bitch. Must be mudblood manners." She shrugged, and walked over to where Hermione was working. "So, what has been happening with you and Weasel."  
  
"Weasley! It's Ron Weasley!" Hermione's brow knotted.  
  
"Weasley." Pansy conceded. "Do tell, are you a couple?"  
  
"I.I.We're not dating." Hermione said shaken.  
  
"Could have fooled me. We all saw how you were ogling at each other."  
  
"We weren't."  
  
"Yes, you were. Don't deny it."  
  
"Okay! So maybe we did stare a bit. Is that what you want to hear?" This was beginning to annoy Hermione.  
  
"Perhaps.have you kissed him yet?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"But you want to. In fact, I'll bet you let him do some other dirty little things to you instead. Perhaps a little 'over the shirt action'?" Pansy was baiting her.  
  
Hermione threw down her sponge and turned angrily on Pansy "That is absolutely none of your business!"  
  
"Is it now?" Pansy looked surprised, but felt confident that she was getting somewhere.  
  
"Well, it's not! And who cares if Ron and I have a.a.a."  
  
"A fling?" Pansy suggested slyly.  
  
"Yes, a fling! Or not a fling.a crush.oh, who would care about that? And what difference would it make to you?" Hermione raged.  
  
Pansy smiled languidly. "Poor little Grangey! Don't you see? It makes no difference to me. But it makes quite a difference to you." Hermione eyed her suspiciously. "After all, we don't want any rumors flying around, now do we? Heavens forbid you should look like a slut." Pansy leaned in to Hermione's face, grinning sardonically. She slowly reached into the sink, grabbed a jar, and nonchalantly dropped it on the floor. It shattered around her feet. "Oops!" She muttered, pseudo-innocently.  
  
"Miss Granger, did I just hear a jar break?" Snape entered the room. "Miss Parkinson, is there some reason why you're in the classroom so late?"  
  
"Oh yes, Professor Snape." Pansy grinned wildly. "You see, sir, I was walking by to get to the Slytherin common room when I heard a crash. I stopped to see if something was wrong, and Hermione pulled me in, trying to talk me into taking the blame!" She smiled sweetly at Hermione. "Isn't that just dreadful?"  
  
Snape's eyes squinted. "So I see. Granger, another detention tomorrow, for not following orders. Perhaps more time here will teach you to be a little less clumsy. Miss Parkinson, please return to your dormitory."  
  
Pansy walked out of the classroom quietly, and once in the hall, broke out into a run. She whispered the password to the picture of a sunken-faced witch, and rushed into the common room. Searching for a blond head, she hurried to the doors of the boys' dormitory. Suddenly, she felt an arm pull her into a dark corner.  
  
"Did you get the information I wanted?" A languidly lush voice whispered in her ear.  
  
Pansy's disgusting face smiled. "Of course. Anything for you, Draco." 


	4. Mind Games & Sword Play

A/N- Thanks for all the feedback, guys! You've all been really sweet. I'm working on lengthening my chapters (My apologies that they're so short!), but since this is my first story, I'm not accustomed to how long "long" would be when I upload. Thanks for the patience though-I really appreciate it!  
  
"So they've done nothing?" Draco Malfoy looked at Pansy Parkinson incredulously. The common room was empty, and all that could be heard the sound of Goyle snoring.  
  
"Not a thing, with the exception of hand holding and ogling each other. It's rather disgusting really." Pansy scooted over on the couch toward Draco. "Well, perhaps not that disgusting." She cooed suggestively.  
  
Draco looked at her, trying to keep his dinner down as she smiled and scrunched her pug nose. *Wonderful. Now this pig is going to want me to sleep with her.* He looked at her intently. *Well, she's just a hole.and I suppose with a bag over her head.* Draco swallowed down a chuckle, after wondering if it should be paper or plastic.  
  
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Draco?" Pansy asked breathlessly.  
  
God, he couldn't look at that face anymore. Glancing to the fireplace, he said coolly, "Just keep an ear out and an eye open. Let me know anything you find." Pansy looked at him, slightly ticked that this was the most he could ask for. He had to remedy this quickly. "After all, it would help in making fun of them, don't you think, B-beautiful?" He nearly choked on the word.  
  
The reaction was more than what he expected. Pansy lit up, her attention drawn away from his request. "Oh Draco! You know, I know you know how I've felt about you for a while now, don't you? You did! I know you did! And now I know you feel the same way too! You do! Don't you?"  
  
Where the hell did this idiot get such an idea!? Draco cringed inside. Still, she was a source of information. The plan would never work without her. He had to keep her on his good side. With practiced smoothness, he lied through his teeth. "Of course I do. How often is it that one can meet such an intelligent girl from a pureblood family? And one as pretty as yourself!"  
  
Pansy squealed, threw her arms around Draco and kissed him. He was caught off guard, eyes wide in surprise, but composed himself quickly. *Well, she's certainly a beginner!* Draco thought as Pansy mindlessly fumbled around. She kissed like a fish, puckered and stiff. Finally, so disgusted, he had to push her off.  
  
Pansy shot him a confused look. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, no, not at all." Draco saved. "I was just wondering what else happened tonight."  
  
"Well, I managed to get that mudblood another detention for tomorrow." She looked silently pleased with herself.  
  
Draco smiled. "Wonderful job!" That would play in quite well with what he had planned. She looked happy.now to hook her in so she would never turn away from the mission. "Pansy, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me on our next free weekend?"  
  
"Would I!? This is going awfully fast, but.oh hell, sure!" Pansy looked damn near ecstatic. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room began to chime, startling her. The hands on the face were just barely illuminated by the dying fire, reading off 1:00. "Ugh, what timing! We should get to bed. I think we have Transfiguration tomorrow morning, and the last time Longbottom fell asleep in class, McGonnagal turned him into a gerbil. Last thing I need is to sprout fur."  
  
*Well you certainly have enough growing between your eyebrows.* Thought Draco.  
  
"See you in the morning, Draco." Pansy leaned in for another quick fish- lipped kiss, and then scurried off to the girls' dormitories.  
  
Draco wiped his mouth off with the sleeve of his robes, and walked to the boys' dormitories. Gathering his pajama pants, he headed for the bathrooms. *Could it work? Of course it would.* Draco reassured himself. *Pansy's already caught up in it. She's too damn head over heels not to help me out on this, and now that I've asked her out, there's no way she'll desert me. And Hermione and Ron, clearly they won't last. Not while I'm around. Weasley, there was nothing to do about him.but Granger.* Draco folded up his school robes and pulled on his pajama pants, glancing at the mirror on the wall. He had filled out quite nicely, taller and more muscularly built this year. *Yes, Granger would be easy to handle.she was after all, a woman.*  
  
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Professor McGonnagal strolled into the classroom, head held high and balancing her spectacles on the tip of her nose. The mumbling class grew silent immediately.  
  
"Good morning class." The bleary eyed students murmured their response, and a few heads actually began to droop. This would not do. Not at all.  
  
Taking a long hard look around the classroom, she bellowed aristocratically, "May I remind the few members of the class that are AWAKE."  
  
Heads jerked up.  
  
"That I am teaching a N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration course. And I will not!" She pointed her wand and sparked Neville awake.  
  
"Tolerate!" Sparks flew to Parvati Patil.  
  
"Sleeping!" Lavender got zapped.  
  
"In my class!" The rest of the students straightened in their seats, the sparks and scares enough to create a natural caffeine high.  
  
McGonnagal stared at the now wide-eyed students and smiled softly. "Now that I have your attention, I think we shall learn to transfigure sabers from quills. I'm assured you have all brought your extra quills in today?" She saw their rapid nods. "Very well. Now, as you know, most of you are in this class in order to become aurors, or other high ranking Ministry of Magic officials. You therefore must learn to protect yourselves. I should hope that you will all be able handle these weapons with care and maturity. You are sixth years, so I'm sure you can manage at that, even if you cannot manage to stay awake in my class. Now on the count of three, I want you all to tap the quill thrice and say 'Acinaces Abeo'. Ready.one.two.three."  
  
The class rang with Latin incantations and rapid smacking on the desks. Hermione managed on the first try to get the saber she had hoped for. She smiled confidently over at Harry and Ron, who quickly turned pink and smiled back, not realizing that he had hit the quill so swiftly that it had broken in two. Harry poked him with his wand, and brought his attention back to the dilapidated quill.  
  
"Not good, Mr. Weasley, not good." Professor McGonnagal said as she walked by. "Please try again with a new quill.Very nice, Ms. Granger! Ten points for Gryffindor." She turned to face the rest of the class, noticing that Neville was having a touch of trouble. "Mr. Longbottom, it's three taps, then 'Acinaces Abeo'. Now, Mr. Goyle, what can I help you."  
  
BANG!  
  
Professor McGonnagal spun around quickly, facing a charred and distorted Neville Longbottom, his head partially blocked by a large axe wedged into the wood of the desk.  
  
"Professor, I think I cut myself." Neville garbled weakly, holding up his sliced hand, then fainted straight away.  
  
"Oh dear." McGonnagal rushed to Neville's aide, muttering to herself. "I told him 'Acinaces' not 'Ascia'.Class, I'm taking Mr. Longbottom to the Infirmary. There had better not be one thing out of place in the room when I get back, or tonight might be your last night in Hogwarts!" With the child leaning in her arms, she quickly dragged herself out of the classroom.  
  
In a mocking baby talk tone, Malfoy sneered. "Baby Wongbottom still can't speak wite! Awww, poor baby!" The Slytherin section snickered. "What a fucking cack-handed shit he is! Can't even handle a cut!"  
  
"Oh give it a rest Malfoy! I saw you looking awfully pale over that blood!" Ron shouted back.  
  
Draco turned to him, eyes narrowing. "I'm not afraid of pure blood, Weasel, just mudbloods like your girlfriend."  
  
Ron stood up angrily, Harry standing in front to restrain him. Harry pushed his chin up in defiance. "It's nice you finally admitted you're scared of half-bloods, Malfoy. Could it be you've finally learned to tell the truth?"  
  
"Afraid of them? HA! Hardly, Potter." Draco scoffed. "Just afraid of the ruin they bring upon the wizarding world. You should know that. After all, being a mudblood was part of the reason your bitch mother died."  
  
Harry's eye blazed. "My mother knew the good in the wizarding world, and fought to protect it. All your hideous mother did was give birth to a shit faced git!"  
  
"Don't you speak about my mother that way, Potter. You will pay."  
  
"I saw her once, remember? She looked like she was sucking a lemon when she was around you.or maybe it was because of you father?"  
  
"You.you." Draco raged. He pointed his wand at the nearest quill. "ACINACES ABEO!" The quill grew in size and sleekness, transforming itself into a saber. Malfoy quickly grabbed the hilt and held it up high. He took a fencing stance and steadied himself. "Come on, Potter! Scared of fighting with a trained wizard? A real man doesn't fight with words!" He began to lunge forward.  
  
"Accio Axe!" Harry pointed his wand at the looming axe on Neville's table. The handle was quickly caught, just in time to block the shot of Draco's sword. The clang was so loud, many classmates gasped, and began huddling in the corners of the room.  
  
"Running your mouth as usual! You think you're better than everyone!" Malfoy screamed as he swung the saber around, narrowly missing Harry's arm. Harry brought the axe upward, then sliced in down, causing Malfoy to duck.  
  
"Let's be real, Ferret! That's not me! It's you! You've been acting like an arrogant twit since you walked in this school!" The axe and the saber clashed the three rapid swings. Harry quickly swerved and reached for his wand. "Detrudere!"  
  
Draco was slammed to the floor and slid backwards, knocking over a row of chairs. He dropped his saber and grasped his wand, pointing it quickly at Harry. "Ferio Fluctuatio!"  
  
Harry felt an invisible hand punch him in the face, sending his flying, flipping backwards over a desk and pushing down a few more. The force pulled him up, flipping him forward and knocking down another few desks. His head slammed into the solid slate of the floor, and he raised himself to a kneeling position, slightly dizzy. Draco had stood, and was now pointing both wand and saber down to Harry's face. "How about I add another scar to that famous face, Potter?"  
  
"MISTER MALFOY!" Draco dropped the saber and turned to face the furious Professor McGonnagal. "I AM ASTOUNDED THAT YOU WOULD DO SOMETHING THIS AUDACIOUS! THREATENING THE LIFE OF A CLASSMATE! FIFTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN AND DETENTION FOR A WEEK! I SIMPLY CANNOT BELIEVE YOU!"  
  
The bell rang, and the cowering class began to file out the doors. Hermione and Ron timidly went over to Harry, helping him up off the floor and helped him walk out. Ron gave a glowingly hateful look to Draco as he passed.  
  
Detention that night! Not a good time! Draco was even more miserable than before. This would not make things any easier in his attempts to ruin them. But he certainly knew a way to get out of the trouble. 


	5. Really Thinking

Draco paced the common room, while the old serpentine grandfather clock, dusty with age, ticked on, the pendulum a swinging snake's head. It would be coming soon, he knew it; it always came like clockwork.  
  
A scratching, then a fierce crash, was heard somewhere in the boys' dormitories, and a large midnight black owl swept into the room. It landed at Draco's feet, and dropped a large brown parcel. Draco smiled. The family owl had arrived.  
  
"Perfect! Peligroso, stay here. I have something I'd like you to do for me."  
  
The owl's dark brown eyes peered up maliciously as Draco picked up the package and opened it. The usual, a large gourmet box of Celestine's Cosmic Caramels sent from his mother, and a letter informing him of his father's state. He perused it absentmindedly, then threw it to the side. He had matters to handle.  
  
Rushing into his dormitory, and rummaging around the bedside drawer, he pulled out a bronze quill, ink, a picture of his father and some paper. Setting himself at a spare desk, he laid out his supplies, touched the quill to the ink and lay the tip onto the picture. But rather than leaving a splotch of black, the picture absorbed the drops. Lucius Malfoy blinked up at his son, smirked and shook his head. Draco then let the quill tip rest on the paper, free standing, and began dictating his thoughts.  
  
"Most Honorable Professor Snape. . ." The quill began to scratch out ink in the exact penmanship of Lucius Malfoy. "It has recently come to my attention that my son, Draco, has gotten into a touch of mischief with Mr. Harry Potter recently. While troublemaking is never a permissible thing, I found it especially questionable that Professor McGonagall punished only Draco. Now I am not questioning her authority, but I do sense some favoritism, as I'm sure you do as well. Perhaps, it would be fairer if my son served detention with you instead, as I trust your superior judgment, and I know that you would never be harsher upon one student because of another's fanfare. With all that is going on with my trial, I'm sure things are hard enough on poor Draco." Draco sighed. . .this was a bit truer than originally thought. Well, no time to waste now. "Thank you for all your time. Respectably, Lucius Malfoy."  
  
Draco looked upon the letter and smiled triumphantly. Folding it, he turned to the family owl. "Peligroso, listen here. I need you to deliver this to Professor Snape. Make sure he gets this at exactly 5:15 tonight. No later. Understand?" The owl screeched at him, and viciously snapped at the letter. "Don't fuck this up, or I'll have you swinging on a spit for supper tomorrow."  
  
He watched as the jet black owl flew out the window and into the darkness.  
  
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Draco had no sooner sat down in front of McGonagall to polish the desks he had ruined in his fight with Potter, than Snape sauntered into the room. He bowed slightly to a surprised McGonagall, and peered through greasy locks at Draco.  
  
"Professor, I am here to take Malfoy to serve detention."  
  
McGonagall turned her attention straight to Snape. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Professor Snape. He is here to serve detention with me."  
  
"With all due respect, your detention style is not quite what the rest of us would have in mind for this child." Snape narrowed his eyes.  
  
Draco watched with satisfaction as McGonagall rose from her chair. "My detention style? My 'detention style' is quite acceptable. . ."  
  
"In the eyes of those who are taken in by Potter's stories and games." Snape drew closer and loomed over her. "Honestly, this is not what people would expect from you."  
  
McGonagall was outraged. With a voice seething just above a whisper, she met him eye to eye. "Severus, you were not there. This insolent thing ravaged my room and was near to killing Mr. Potter. He should have been expelled, but since you called against that, the punishment is the only thing I can make sure of. And I will not have him go unpunished."  
  
"He will not be going unpunished. He will serve detention with me."  
  
"Hardly a detention then, if you don't mind me saying. You have always been easy on your own house."  
  
"And you've never done the same? Why I can think of a moment just last year with the Quidditch match."  
  
"I will not allow him to be taken from my presence!"  
  
"I have permission from Professor Dumbledore and the boy's father Lucius Malfoy."  
  
McGonagall silenced and sneered at the father's name. Eyes peering from Snape to Draco, she finally relented. "Fine. Take him. But you, Mr. Malfoy," She turned a long finger at the blond boy. "I'll be keeping my eye on you. If another toe is put out of line, not even You-Know-Who himself will keep you from being punished properly!"  
  
Draco muttered a quiet "Yes Ma'am," before rushing out the door with Professor Snape. Following at a respectful distance, he stood straighter, chest puffed out at his success. He had begun to wonder, as the clock ticked down to 5:15, that maybe Snape wouldn't believe the letter to be real. But it worked! It worked perfectly!  
  
"Malfoy. Malfoy?" Professor Snape had turned to face him at the door of his classroom. Draco snapped back to reality. He had been smiling his typical smirk, but quickly stopped to look penitent, eyes turned down from his teacher. "You may be thinking that you're getting off extremely easy tonight. And I assure you, you will not have an excessively difficult detention. I will not be in the room, as I have to aide Madame Pomfrey in a health potion for a rather stupid but solidified second year. But I think it punishment enough to be stuck in a room with Ms. Granger. Go in. Perhaps you can find decent company, if not with her, than with the Poison Octolingus in the corner." He spun quickly, his black robes raising in the air as he walked briskly down the hall to the stairs.  
  
*The moment of truth,* Draco thought to himself. He looked quickly into a newly shined coat of arms, straightening his school robes and smoothing his hair. Smirking toothily, he was thoroughly contented, and walked into the classroom.  
  
There she was, the prey, the soon to be victim, her back turned to him at the sink, once again scrubbing out jars. Hermione's frizzed hair had been pulled back into a quick but wild ponytail, and she was singing softly to herself, some quick Australian ditty, judging from the words. *Some shitty muggle tune, most likely.* Draco thought, disgusted. Then she started swaying, her hips swinging in time to the melody. Draco folded his arms across his chest and smiled in male appreciation. No, the school robes did little to help any girl's figure, but it was enough to tempt imagination. She could be a fairly attractive girl, if she'd pull her nose out of a book once in a while and fix herself up a bit.  
  
She shrugged off the outer robe and let it fall to the ground, back still turned from him, and Draco was allowed the full view of the muggle-born girl. Fairly slim, good long legs. . .Draco could definitely understand why some foolish wizards could turn to a muggle woman. *She could actually make my plan at least slightly enjoyable.* Draco thought to himself. *Hell, she's not nearly as bad as Pansy, and. . .oh. . .wait a minute.* A jar had slipped just beyond Hermione's reach, and she bent over the edge of the sink, stretching to reach the slippery thing. He smirked as he watched her uniform skirt start to rise, still with the notes of the Australian song.  
  
Draco tilted his head lower to the side, catching a view, and smugly called out, "So, how're things 'down under', Mudblood?"  
  
Hermione startled and straightened, turning to peer angrily at Draco. "Probably a lot better than what you've been seeing with Pansy Parkinson." Draco just chuckled softly, knowing she was probably right. Hermione began to scowl. She did not need this, on top of Snape's pointless detention. Unsatisfied with his laughing reaction, she asked, "You should be in detention with Professor McGonagall. So what do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
"Oh, only to keep you company, as per Snape's, not McGonagall's, detention directions. Which, I assure you, is a painful enough detention for me." He sat on the edge of a desk, nearby the sink.  
  
"This is your detention? To watch me work?" She gaped at him disbelievingly. It wasn't fair! Malfoy and his cronies always got out of trouble, and she always got screwed over!  
  
"That's what Snape told me to do. God, don't you Mudbloods hear anything?"  
  
"Stop calling me that!"  
  
Draco stood up from the desk, one eyebrow raised. "What'll you do to make me?"  
  
Hermione stared at him, as if measuring what she was up against. He towered over her now, a growth spurt over the summer putting him just about 6 feet tall, with broader shoulders and a more man-ish jaw line. The guy was built for Quidditch. Gorgeously built for it, and. . .Hermione pulled herself away from that train of thought. He was disgusting, she assured herself, and built for Quidditch. And therefore, any altercation would probably not come out in her favor. She thought again of Harry, who spent a few hours in the Infirmary getting patched up after his fight with Malfoy. Seething, she turned away, back to the sink of filthy jars.  
  
Draco leered at her obvious irritation. "You know, I always thought you were too scared to face me outright. And without your little friends Potty and Weasel, you can't even say what you're thinking."  
  
"Yes, I can!" Hermione scrubbed more vigorously at the jar in the sink.  
  
"Really?" Draco spoke softly, and slowly walked over to her. Time to step up the bets. When he was within inches of her, he stopped. "What are you thinking right now?"  
  
Hermione stopped washing the jars. He was close, too close. Then again, Ron had never even attempted to get this close to her. Her stomach tightened up. It was disconcerting. "I. . .I want you to g-get away from me."  
  
"That didn't sound very believable." Draco came up right behind her, his hands by his side, but leaning in to rasp in her ear. "What are you really thinking?" Hermione gave no answer, her heart beating too loud to think. Draco placed his hands on her waist. "My guess is that you're enjoying this. My guess is that Ron has never treated you with this kind of interest. My guess is that you wouldn't be able to stand if I took my hands off you." Hermione's breath quickened. She closed her eyes, knowing he was right---her knees were took weak to hold her. He pulled her back closer to him. "In fact," Draco's breath was hot on her ear. "My guess is that you wish my hands could go elsewhere. . ."  
  
Hermione shuddered, and without a second thought, turned around and kissed him. 


	6. Questions & Quills

*He kisses divinely.* Hermione thought while briefly pulling herself away for air. But her brain was not right to reason at the moment. She leaned back into the somewhat startled Draco and kissed him again. Her hands slid up his arms and over his shoulders, clasping behind his neck. They were locked together, and there wasn't a chance for him to wrench away from her-- -she wouldn't let him. He had a presence so indescribable, and it melted away her train of thought. Dear God, it was as if she were possessed.  
  
Draco was shocked at the turn of events. This had all come about too easy. Wasn't Hermione supposed to put up a fight? Wasn't she one of the more stubborn ones? It was too simple, but. . . wait. Hermione had moaned against his mouth. Draco smiled inwardly. Who cared if it wasn't planned? This was headed out just the way he wanted it to. And damn it if he weren't enjoying this.  
  
He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and suddenly Hermione's eyes flew open. She stiffened in his arms and pulled away from him. She managed to look at Draco for a moment, his cool blue-gray eyes staring down at her. They were cold, so cold. Malfoy was still Malfoy, sardonic, scornful, mocking Malfoy. And here she was, doing things she had never done before, kissing him after his taunting, after his violence, after his cruelty. After Ron had just started to become a possibility to her. But she couldn't help herself. Could it be that she took pleasure in it? She shivered and looked away. This was all a very big mistake, and she was angry and ashamed with herself.  
  
"Something wrong, Granger?" Draco said in an undertone, his hands still firmly on her waist.  
  
Her hands slid down from his neck and back to her sides. "Yes." Hermione said firmly. This time she did not stammer. "Please let go of me."  
  
"As you wish." Draco shrugged and let go, taking a small step backward. Hermione watched him cautiously then turned back to the sink to finish scouring the last jar.  
  
He set himself back on the edge of the nearest desk, watching Hermione as she worked. She worked diligently, but still had gentleness to her handling. There was a certain grace to her, but it could have always been chalked up to femininity. She bent down to grab her school robe and put it back on, and he caught a glimpse of long, milk white legs. Yes, that grace could definitely be chalked up to being a woman.  
  
The footsteps heard from down the hall allowed Draco to withdraw from his thoughts. He quickly faced away from Hermione and put on a scowl. Snape walked in just at that very moment.  
  
"I hope I wasn't away for too long." Professor Snape surveyed the room to make sure everything was in one piece. Satisfied that none of his possessions had been riffled through, he turned on the two students. "Are you quite done with those jars yet?" He said icily to Hermione, who quickly placed the last jar down to dry and turned to face him with a soft 'yes sir.' He frowned slightly, then replied. "Well, I suppose you may leave then. That will be your final detention. Let's all hope you have less trouble handling your things in my class, or we'll be seeing you around here more often. Perhaps you could keep Mr. Longbottom company."  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she kept them staring at the floor. With a quick jerk of his head, Snape signaled her to leave. She took the opportunity, and hastened out of the room.  
  
As quickly as she walked out of the classroom, she ran down the hallway, not stopping until she got to the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady in her pink dress stared down at her with a mixture of confusion and amusement.  
  
"My word! Don't we look frazzled!" She said haughtily.  
  
"I am not!" Hermione did not have the patience for such musings. She wanted to get inside and go to bed, and try to forget that any of this had happened.  
  
"Oh but you certainly look it, child. I heard from Marguerite Millstone, the rather slow Witch in the Hufflepuff Hall, that you had to serve detention yet again for that boor Snape. Now I know he can be beastly, but it looks as if he's simply run you through! Comes from a no good wizarding family, I'll tell you, and. . ."  
  
Hermione was beyond exasperated. But the Fat Lady was probably right, as she saw her reflection in a coat of arms near by. She did look like she had been through something stressful. And everyone inside would notice. . .including Ron and Harry. She straightened herself out and in a frustrated fit, nearly screamed, "Onion Soup!"  
  
The Fat Lady looked back incredulously. "Very well then. No need to shout!" The portrait swung open and the light from the common room poured out into the dark hall. Hermione tentatively walked inside.  
  
"Hey 'Mione! How'd the detention go?" Harry turned around in one of the overstuffed chairs and called to her. Ron sat across from him, sheepishly looking at her. It was obvious that she was the topic of their conversation before she walked in.  
  
She walked over trying to appear nonchalant. "Oh, fine, I suppose. He had me washing jars again. But it went well. Can't complain. Nope, not at all."  
  
Both her friends stared at her with bewilderment. Ron spoke up first. "Are you sure everything is all right?"  
  
"Of course! What would make you think otherwise?"  
  
"You just seem to be a little. . .err. . .jarred, that's all." Ron scratched his head behind his ear.  
  
Harry looked dead on at her, trying to meet her averting eyes. "You know, if something bad happened, if Snape went around torturing you, you could always tell us. We're your friends. That's what we're here for."  
  
Hermione stared at a crack in the stone floor. "Really, everything is fine." She stated half-heartedly. "I've just had a long day. I'm tired. I want to go to bed."  
  
She walked away from them before they had the chance to object. Harry was about to get up and go after her, but Colin Creevey had, for the 17th time that day, jumped in front of him and snapped another picture. The flash bulb was so bright that it blinded Ron and Harry, along with half the common room. When their eyes finally readjusted, they weren't sure exactly where Hermione had gone. They did, however, see Colin being chased around by Seamus, who was screaming at the top of his lungs.  
  
"Enough with the bloody blinding pictures, you son of a bitch bastard! Gimme that goddamn camera!"  
  
Hermione, meanwhile, had run up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Changing quickly, she jumped into her four-poster and drew the crimson curtains shut. Her mind was swimming in unanswered questions. *What the hell happened?* She thought to herself. Malfoy seduced her and she allowed it. How could she allow it? And beyond that, she was acting as well! And Ron, just when he was beginning to show real interest! Just when she actually stood a chance! And here she'd gone and done the unthinkable with his greatest enemy. *Dear Lord, if he finds out, he'll be furious!* Hermione cringed. But then Draco's face flashed before her eyes. *Then again, it wasn't that unthinkable. . .I could always have done worse. Yes, much worse.* Hermione thought of the kiss, and for a moment lost herself in dreaming of the 'worse' things she and Draco could have done. At that moment, she remembered Ron's face, the stares he had given her, the laughs and reassurances and of course that feeling in the pit of her stomach. With a groan, Hermione turned and stuffed her face in her pillow.  
  
She had certainly screwed things up this time.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
Hermione was busy scratching away with her quill in Advanced Potions. Snape was once again rambling irritably on the importance of holly leaves in protection potions. Her eyes were dropping slightly, after tossing and turning herself through a very restless night. There was this disgusted feeling in her stomach, even though she tried to take her mind off of it by working.  
  
It wasn't working.  
  
Harry and Ron were beginning to give her some odd glances though. *At least they're not asking any questions.* Hermione thought gratefully. That would be the very last thing she needed. God, she just regretted the whole thing. Oh why did he have to do that!?  
  
And there he was. Draco Malfoy, surrounded by his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle, and his rather rotund Pansy Parkinson. How could he be interested in a girl like her? She was huge! Her massively round face was greasy and splotched. And there he was, tall, well built, and, dare she think it, rather handsome. She remembered the feel of his wide shoulders under her hands, the strength in his arms, the feel of his lips. He was a rather remarkable creature, even with his detestable personality. His hair was perfectly set, his robes the neatest pressed, his wand the highest quality made. Hermione saw the way he slouched forward on his stool, legs parted far and elbows resting on his knees. He embodied masculinity. Hermione was in a daze.  
  
At that moment, Draco turned his head to her. His cool blue-gray eyes found hers, and he smirked, letting those eyes wander her carriage. Hermione's heart jumped, and she blushed and looked away, turning her eyes instead to Ron, who was seated next to her. His brow was knotted in concentration, tongue slightly visible between his lips as he sloppily took notes on whatever it was that Snape was lecturing over. His nails were slightly chewed. His flaming red hair was mussed up. His robes were tattered, and his wand was chipped and dull. He just wasn't the same as. . .  
  
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Hermione looked from her classmates' books to her own. She had spent the last half of class daydreaming and now she was missing all those notes. Ehh, she could always get them from Harry. . .she never could read Ron's writing anyway.  
  
Gathering up her things and throwing them into her satchel, she quickly walked, eyes focus on the floor, toward the door. But she hit something, hard, and stumbled back. Looking up, she saw the eyes of Malfoy focusing in on hers.  
  
"You should look where you're going, Granger. But then again, you've looked quite a lot today." Draco smirked, and Hermione, humiliated and hurried, pursed her lips and focused on a bit of dirt on one of the tables. "Aww, don't be angry, Granger, I'm actually quite flattered. Here-consider it a peace offering." Draco handed her a notebook. "You're probably missing quite a few notes after all that ogling."  
  
Hermione stared suspiciously at Draco, trying to find a clue of a catch in this deal. Not finding any hint of guilt, she reached for the book and muttered, "Thank you." She lowered her eyes to the floor again.  
  
"Draco Darling, we're going to be late to Arithmancy!" Pansy Parkinson bounded up the aisle to Draco, wrapping herself around his arm and smiling at him. She looked over to Hermione, and the smile quickly disappeared. "Oh look who it is. Frizz-ball." Pansy sneered. "What do you want, Granger? Looking for a sword fight with my Draco? He was certainly fantastic kicking the shit out of Potty, wasn't he? He'll do the same again at the Quidditch match this Friday. Potter's really not much on a broom. . .then again, neither is your precious Weasel."  
  
Hate glimmered in Hermione's eyes. "Well if you think you could do a better job, Pansy, by all means, show us how. But I some how think the fat would weigh you down."  
  
Pansy looked infuriated, but Hermione couldn't care less. She shoved past the both of them and hurried down the hall.  
  
*Well, she's certainly got spunk, doesn't she?* Draco thought as he watched her back leaving the room. She was attractive. . .and smart. . .and impassioned. . .and. . .Draco shook his head and cleared his thoughts. She was a mudblood, first and foremost, and the target in his plan. Draco was going to ruin the people who ruined his family. He could not be distracted by stupid temporary emotions. The only reason he was thinking that way, he rationalized, was because he needed a little physical attention. After all, if had been four days since he bagged that raven-haired third year. He smiled to himself. *Ah, gymnasts. . .*  
  
Pansy tugged at Draco's sleeve and smiled up at him. *Well, I suppose I can't be running after girls anymore. Not with this pug bitch hounding me.* Draco quickly smiled back at her, halfheartedly, and followed her out the hallway to their next class. His only luck at satisfaction was Hermione. . .if she followed through.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
"So what are you up to, Herm? More extra credit reports?" Harry laughed as he saw his friend settle down at one of the empty tables and start reaching for her books.  
  
Ron chuckled too. "Don't you ever stop working? Queen to D-5." The little statue quickly took out Harry's knights. Another bout of Wizards' Chess, just as violent as the one before.  
  
"I just have to copy the Potions notes." Hermione muttered under her breath.  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide. "You mean you weren't paying attention in class? Ron, I think we finally rubbed off on her!"  
  
Seamus walked by and overheard. "Hermione? Hermione Granger was a poor student today? Somebody write this down! It's a first!"  
  
"You can borrow my notes if you'd like, Hermione." Neville said from across the room. The lion-faced clock in the corner roared its chimes; it was 9 o'clock. Neville jumped in his seat at the sound.  
  
"Neville, it's alright." Ron blushed slightly as he said, "I-if you'd like, Hermione, you can, umm, borrow mine."  
  
She looked appreciatively back at him. "It's alright, Ron. I've already gotten someone's notes to copy."  
  
Ron looked slighted. "Oh. Who?"  
  
Hermione guiltily focused her attentions on her inkbottle. "No one."  
  
"Her-- "  
  
"I said it was no one, okay?" She knew they'd ask. They always asked questions. She just didn't feel like answering them, or even putting up with them right now.  
  
"But if-- " Harry chimed in.  
  
"Look, if I can't work with even the slightest amount of privacy here, then I'm going to leave." Hermione said in frustration.  
  
"Well, okay," Harry relented. "I just thought that, if it's 'no one' then you'd-- "  
  
"Oh forget this!" Hermione quickly gathered her things, and with a remorseful feeling in her stomach, headed once again to the girls' dormitories. She could hear the boys muttering behind her.  
  
"Gees, who lit the fuse on her tampon?"  
  
With a slamming of the door after the stair climb, Hermione threw herself onto her bed. It was getting late, 9:15 now, and she was still sleepy from the night before. *Best to get this over with.* She thought. Settling herself in for work, she opened the borrowed notebook, flipping through to the last written pages for the Potions notes. There, on the last page, in deeply engraved, aristocratic handwriting, was a message. . .  
  
Meet me tonight, 9:30 First floor east corridor Second Coat of Armour I'll be waiting for you.  
~Draco  
  
Hermione stared wide-eyed at the page. She quickly shut the book and ran for the door. 


	7. Terminated Tryst

Hermione sped down the darkened corridors of the ancient school. She was breathing so quickly she barely noticed the building's musty odor, the kind of whiff that comes with centuries of age. Racing down the stairs toward the Great Hall, she lost her footing and began to tumble, landing bottom down at the base of the stairs.  
  
Slightly embarrassed, Hermione quickly checked the surrounding area. It was clear; no one had seen her. She raised herself up, rubbing the spot on her bum she was sure would be bruised tomorrow. Ugh, why was she doing this!? She couldn't comprehend what would compel her to behave the way she was. She couldn't be attracted to Malfoy. Not a chance in the world. . .or at least she tried to tell herself for the ninth time that evening.  
  
Smoothing her robes and straightening her hair, she slowly and deliberately made her way toward the first floor corridor. She may not be sure of her actions, but she would at least be sure she was not perceived as overly enthusiastic. This was her biggest enemy, she and her friends'. She was certain that this unwelcome emotion was just frustration over Ron. . .perhaps a little sexual frustration as well. Hermione shook her head. But it was probably true. Everyone had their needs, and she couldn't deny her own, or deny the fact that they weren't and had never been met. Yes, any interest Hermione had in Malfoy was simply the result of overactive hormones.  
  
She walked into the first floor corridor, repeating the mantra of 'overactive hormones'.  
  
Then she saw him.  
  
In the torch light by the second coat of armor was a tall blond boy-- no, man. Hermione's formerly overactive hormones took a whole new speed, and her heart began to race. Stopping dead in her tracks, her mouth went dry and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She hated this feeling, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Oh, how she wish she had stayed in her room!  
  
He turned at the sound of her footsteps, letting his eyes wander over her flame lit frame. She was blushing; he loved it. It somehow brightened her eyes, and she was nervously chewing on her bottom lip. It was something feminine, something fascinating. He was almost drawn to it. Draco shut his eyes tightly to clear his head. He had work to do. Opening his eyes, he straightened himself. He repeated to himself that he had work to do.  
  
"You. . .umm, you're in Quidditch robes." Hermione said feebly. She regretted saying it the moment it came out of her mouth. It was so stupid to state the obvious. But the silence, it made her nervous, and she was willing to say anything to make it stop.  
  
Draco suddenly remembered his robes and the broom his still held in his hand. He ran his free hand through his tousled blond hair, the perspiration having ruined the perfect gel job he had done that morning. "Yeah, we had practice tonight. It was hard. Just got off."  
  
"You're still sweating." Hermione said seriously, then suddenly burst into a slight smile. "If this isn't a double entendre. . ." She didn't even finish-- both let out a small laugh.  
  
The silence that followed made her nervous. He noticed it and smirked. He was making an effect. She grew so fidgety that she rushed through her next words. "Umm, I saw in your book that you wanted me here. Unless that wasn't meant for me. If it wasn't, let me know. I could just leave. It's no big deal. I just thought. . ."  
  
Draco raised a hand to quiet her. "It was meant for you." He replied simply.  
  
That didn't ease her nerves. Stomach still swirling, she spoke up quietly. "Oh. Well, then what is it that you want me here for?" Hermione stared on as Draco scratched his chin casually. "This isn't some joke on me, is it? Pansy isn't waiting in a corner to bludgeon me to death?" *Typical,* she thought. *I always think suspiciously.*  
  
Draco smirked. *Granger, if you only knew.* "No. No, I just wanted to talk to you."  
  
Her face screwed up in confusion. "Talk to me about what?"  
  
"About how I feel about you."  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Her-Hermione," Draco stumbled on the words, having nearly never spoken her given name to her face before. "I think you know what I'm talking about. You don't think all that happened in detention for any other reason." He saw her eyes glaze over, and the blood drain from her face. Oh, she had been thinking about it. He could tell.  
  
"Well. . .I. . .but. . ." Hermione stammered.  
  
"I've always felt strangely attracted to you, Hermione. Always. Surely you must have known that?" He waited to see her reaction.  
  
"But-- but you're dating Pansy Parkinson. That's what everyone's been saying."  
  
Draco dramatically rolled his eyes. Another Malfoy benefit, besides good looks, was the glorious gift of acting/lying remarkably. "Yes, yes, that." He said with faux frustration. "She's always been interested in me. I helped her with some homework a week ago and suddenly she's stating we're going out. She's been all over me since the beginning of the term, her and Millicent Bulstrode, and now it's got the whole school talking. It couldn't be further from the truth. After all, look at her." He smirked.  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed and she bristled at him. Why was she suddenly going on defense? She was thinking the same thing just hours ago! Hermione prayed that she could eventually get a hold on these conflicting emotions. "I always figured you'd be shallow, Malfoy. This just proves it."  
  
"Then you understand why I feel the way I do about you."  
  
"Actually, no. I don't."  
  
"You don't!?" He said in mock surprise. "Hasn't Ron ever told you how gorgeous you are?"  
  
Hermione looked suddenly sullen. "No." Draco had definitely hit a sore spot in their relationship, or lack thereof.  
  
"Don't you think you're attractive?"  
  
"Well, I'm not all that good looking. . ." Hermione, all at once feeling very self conscious about herself, started picking at the thread on the sleeve of her robes.  
  
"Oh but you are!" Draco exclaimed, causing Hermione to look up into his face with surprise. She was playing perfectly into the trap.  
  
He started to step closer to her.  
  
"Look at yourself. Look at those eyes. They sparkle. And that smile-- you certainly fixed that up quite nicely, remember a few years back?" She giggled. She was able to laugh about that commotion now.  
  
He took another step nearer and reached to brush away a strand of hair. Hermione felt his finger tips brush against her cheek delicately. She almost gasped.  
  
"And look at that blush. You glow. That neck, the curve of your collarbone, the very skin." He let his hand wander down her neck. She sighed softly.  
  
Draco took yet another stride forward.  
  
"And those legs, that stomach, they're just made to be touched and enjoyed." His hand ran from her neck down to quickly encircle her waist.  
  
Again, another step.  
  
He was now mere centimeters from her face. His hand reached up again and grasped her chin. His voice was just above a whisper, his thumb just barely grazing her lower lip.  
  
"And those lips were the sweetest I had ever tasted."  
  
He leaned in and kissed her. But this time it wasn't the tame kind they had shared the day before. What began as a fanciful feat quickly became something fierce, something passionate. Hermione wasn't what Draco had expected. He expected her to be timid, like the other girls he had been with, almost too scared to move. But Hermione had lost all common sense; now she was relying on animalistic instinct. She kissed him savagely, and her hands went to his sides, fingers hooking in his belt loops and pressing him closer to her. For a moment, Draco lost himself in the event, his left hand dropping his broomstick and reaching for her bottom. Hermione cringed as he grasped the area that was injured from her fall, but she did not falter in her feelings. She quickly undid the clasp on his outer Quidditch robe, and it fell to the floor. Only spurred on, he hurriedly lifted her up and pressed her against the stone wall, still furiously kissing her as her legs hooked behind his back. She pulled herself away and began trailing her lips down the side of his neck, causing Draco to shiver. Hermione's skirt had slid up in the process, and he. . .he. . .  
  
He couldn't do it. Draco Malfoy pulled away from Hermione, who looked at him with bewilderment. He stared back at her blankly, not knowing how to proceed, or what went wrong. She was near physical perfection. But he couldn't. He didn't know why. It annoyed the shit out of him.  
  
Hermione moved to kiss him again, but this time he pulled away completely. Setting herself back on the ground, he took a step backward and slowly began walking away in a daze.  
  
"Draco?" Hermione worriedly called after him. He merely motioned his hand for her to stop. He wouldn't even turn around.  
  
Hermione was beyond puzzled. She didn't think she had done anything wrong. Maybe she had. Maybe he was lying. Maybe he didn't find her attractive, and that was the reason why he left. Maybe he remembered about Ron, or Pansy, and he felt guilty too. Lord knows she felt guilty. She had acted like a brazen harlot, and she suddenly felt very disgusted with herself.  
  
Staring at the floor contritely, she noticed the green Quidditch robe lying in a heap on the cold gray stones. Draco had forgotten it.  
  
The chimes in the school began sounding off their notice of ten o'clock, all the bells mixing together in a great cacophony of sound. Hermione knew that in a few minutes Mrs. Norris and Filch would begin wandering the halls looking for disobedient students out after their curfew. Knowing that not even her status as prefect would save her from the curmudgeonly ways of that man, Hermione gathered up the green robe, and folding it neatly, headed back to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
That night, in the darkness of the dormitories, lay two unsatisfied students. Hermione Granger was lost in her dreams, wrapped in a green Quidditch robe and savoring the scent of a man she thought uninterested but interesting. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was silently screaming. 


	8. Internal Battle

He couldn't understand it. Draco sat in the middle of his four-poster bed, green drapes drawn shut, hands wringing his feather pillow as if it were a human neck. It wasn't fair! He was doing just what he knew he had to do. It was so simple, so easy. There shouldn't have been a problem. But there was.  
  
Was she attractive? Absolutely. Even Draco had to admit that. Compared to Millicent, Pansy or even Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger was considered a Hogwarts hot commodity. Most of his fellow sixth year boys were beginning to notice. They all whispered about her slim legs, and made bets on who would be the first to get between them. Draco had refused to even join in, claiming that fucking a Mudblood would be like fucking a dog. But now he wasn't so sure he would reject the offer. He thought of those legs, the softness of her skin. And the way she kissed, the way her hands reached for him; she was uninhibited. She was intriguing. She fascinated him.  
  
Draco punched the pillow violently. *She disgusts me!* He told himself. Seething, he thought of all her faults. But he was having trouble thinking of many.  
  
"She's nothing! She's a Mudblood! She's a shitty little Mudblood!" Draco hissed through clenched teeth. No one else in the dormitory heard him (not that anyone would say anything to Draco Malfoy), but on the inside, he was screaming.  
  
*This is all their fault! All Potter and Weasley and Granger's fault! None of this would have happened if it weren't for them!* Draco maliciously tore the center of his pillow clear off the seams. Feathers flew in the air, the only softness surrounded a ragged breathing Draco. *Those little shits ruined my family, ruined my life, took away my father.*  
  
Draco felt a sharp pain in his heart. They took away his father. His father. His father would have known exactly what to do in this situation. His father would have taken care of everything. He always did, from Hogwarts to learning to fly a broom. And now he wasn't even sure where his father was, or what was to become of him. Draco, in a saddened fit of misery, threw the dilapidated pillow aside, and crawled to the very corner of the closed four-poster. Curling up into a small ball, he tucked his head between his knees and silently wept.  
  
Little Draco Malfoy missed his papa.  
  
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Hermione was sitting by the enchanted lake with Ron and Harry, Harry once again complaining about his bad luck with Voldemort, and Ron, as usual, politely but silently ignoring her. She tried talking to him, bringing up various conversations on the news of the Chudley Cannons, his favorite Quidditch team. But Ron remained silent, eyes focused on an undefined point on the other side of the lake. Confused, Hermione waved her hands in front of his face.  
  
"Ron? Hello?" He didn't even flinch.  
  
Hermione tried pushing and pulling at him, but all he would do was stare straight ahead. Gradually she grew more frustrated at his silence. She began to scream and shove him, his eyes still turned blankly toward the lake.  
  
"What's your problem Ron? You've been acting hot and cold to me all year! I'm sick of it! I'm human, goddamn it! Talk to me!" Silence was her only response.  
  
Finally, in a fit of fury, she screwed up her fist and sent it sailing into his face.  
  
The quiet body was propelled to the ground, but when it came back up, Hermione saw not the red hair of Ron Weasley, but the towheaded Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Did you really want to do that, Granger?" He stared at her coldly, blood dripping from his lip, and then he pounced. Kissing her, giving her a taste of the cut she had given him, he threw her to the floor and wrapped his hands around her neck, choking her. Harder and harder he squeezed, and Hermione was left gasping desperately for air.  
  
Hermione kicked, squirmed and woke with a start. She was dripping in sweat and was having trouble breathing. A tug on her neck told her the problem. She carefully unwound the rope tie of the green Quidditch robe from around her neck. Shocked at the mere rareness of something like that happening, Hermione stared down at the thick cloth as if it were a sinister omen. She shook her head quickly, noting that she was beginning to sound a bit like Professor Trelawney. No, it wasn't a sign; it wasn't that. She had simply been tossing and turning in her sleep. Her dream had roused an aggression in her.  
  
Hermione settled back onto her pillow. Trying to calm her unease, she closed her eyes and feigned sleep. But it wasn't going to happen. She felt alone, so alone. Ron was too scared to approach her, Draco was too eager to, and Harry could not be a shoulder to cry on in this mess. If only there was somebody there who could help her, or even just hold her. . .  
  
She turned and took the green Quidditch robe, burying her face in it. Savoring the scent of sandalwood and musk, she thought of Draco Malfoy and slowly drifted to sleep.  
  
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It had been an exceedingly long day. Hermione walked up the stairs slowly, lugging the books she had took out from the library. Too many thoughts in her head. Too many questions from Harry and Ron. Too many odd and silent stares from Draco Malfoy. With a certain touch of exasperation, she roughly pushed him out of her mind. She had analyzed the situation from every which way, and she still didn't know what to think about things.  
  
As she neared the top of the stairs she heard a conversation. Judging from the voices, they were just in front of the Gryffindor entrance.  
  
"Look, I just need to go in to see this girl. A Gryffindor has something of mine." The aristocratic air was trying to keep low, frustrations obviously leaking through.  
  
"I couldn't care if they had all your galleons, little boy." Hermione immediately recognized the melodic old voice of the Fat Lady. "No password, no entrance."  
  
"You don't understand. Look, she has some of my clothing. . ."  
  
"I BEG YOUR PARDON!? Listen, you impertinent little scoundrel, don't you dare speak of such immodest behavior in front of me! Why, in all my time. . ."  
  
The Fat Lady continued her lecture while the boy protested. "But I didn't mean it like that."  
  
". . .And in a school! You should be ashamed of yourself! If I had any sense, why I'd report you to Professor Dumbledore himself! What's your name, little boy!? What's your name!?"  
  
Hermione peered around the corner to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator. Standing there and arguing with the Fat Lady, was none other than Draco Malfoy. Hermione gasped. He was looking for her!  
  
Draco cleared his throat. Putting on his poker face, he smoothly said, "My name is Goyle. If you wish to go to Dumbledore, that's the only name you'll need to say. He knows me very well."  
  
The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow, looking down snootily upon the student. "I'm sure he does!"  
  
With that, the Fat Lady strutted out of the picture frame, obviously heading down to Dumbledore's office. Her huge pink dress rustled as she left. Draco, upset and at the end of his rope, put his back to the wall and slid to the floor with a sigh. This was definitely not in his plan.  
  
Hermione checked to make sure that the Fat Lady had gone, and hurried out from around the corner.  
  
"Malfoy." She whispered. He didn't seem to notice. "Malfoy!"  
  
Draco's head shot up in her direction. He looked at her oddly, and then got up off the floor. "Hello, Granger."  
  
"Hi." Hermione said near breathlessly. There was an awkward silence, lasting for what seemed to be an eternity. Finally she spoke up. "Can I help you?"  
  
Jostled from his thoughts, Draco stammered, "Uh. . .um. . .what?"  
  
"I don't think a sixth year Slytherin would have gotten lost finding his common room." She smiled and pointed to the door. "Why are you here?"  
  
"Oh." Draco straightened himself to his full height. Hermione suddenly felt very small next to him. "I need my Quidditch robe back."  
  
"Your robe?" She asked, not sure of what he was talking about. She was still calculating how much taller he was compared to her.  
  
Draco smirked and responded sarcastically. "Yeah, you know, the one I need for the match on Friday. The green one. The one you nearly ripped off me last night in the-- "  
  
"Ahem. . ." Hermione cleared her throat to stop him, and then blushed profusely. "Actually, I have it here in my bag." She reached in and pulled out the neatly folded green cloth. "I was going to give it back to you after Potions, but you were with Pansy, and I didn't think it would look right."  
  
"Thanks." He handled the gathered cloth delicately, his large hands brushing against hers when he took it. Hermione looked up at his eyes. He looked so sad. She was about to question why, when she heard the rustle of a dress approaching.  
  
"The Fat Lady's coming back!" She roughly took Draco by the arms and shoved him toward the hallway. "Here, hide in the corridor. I just have to get something from inside and I'll be right out."  
  
Making sure he was safely tucked behind an overgrown urn, Hermione walked up to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Onion soup." She said in an undertone.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" The Fat Lady had just settled herself back on her stool.  
  
"Onion soup." Hermione said with a bit more force.  
  
"I'm sorry, child, but I simply can't hear you." The Fat Lady got up from her stool and drew close to the edge of her portrait.  
  
"I said Onion Soup!" Hermione said louder now, perhaps too loud, as she heard a chuckle coming from behind the corridor's urn.  
  
The Fat Lady recoiled, her face looking as if she had been slapped. "Your rudeness is becoming a habit, young lady. Enter." The frame swung open widely.  
  
Hermione quickly walked inside, and threw her bag down in the usual place by the burgundy sofa. Turning around in the empty fire lit room, she was greeted by Ron and Harry.  
  
"Hey, 'Mione. How's things?" Harry called from behind his transfiguration textbook. He was dutifully finishing a report that Hermione completed last week.  
  
"Fine." She replied quickly. "I need a favor." Harry looked up from his scroll. "I need to borrow your invisibility cloak."  
  
"Now?" Harry squinted, took off his glasses, and began to clean them on the tablecloth.  
  
"Right now."  
  
"Don't see what you're going to do at this time of night. It's nearly curfew. Are you going to earn yourself another detention?" Ron looked up expectantly at her.  
  
"Ron, you sound like Mrs. Weasley. Never mind what I need it for. Please, Harry, please let me borrow it."  
  
"Sure, sure, whatever you want. It's underneath the cushion of the red brocade chair there." He jutted his chin over to where Hermione was already digging. She grabbed the bundle and headed for the door.  
  
"Just get it back to me tomorrow! And don't get caught!" Harry called after her as she swung closed the door. Turning his attention to Ron, he muttered, "Chiding a girl is not going to make you their boyfriend. It'll make you their mother."  
  
Ron shrugged and stared wide-eyed at Harry. "Well, how am I supposed to know what to say to her? She scares me. . .makes my insides feel like mush, you know. It gets me nervous."  
  
"There's no reason to be nervous around her. You're friends."  
  
"Did you see how beautiful she looked by the fireplace? Or today in herbology? And during breakfast, when she was reading her mail. . ."  
  
"You need to relax. Take a shit and relax."  
  
"I am relaxed!" Ron exclaimed, and immediately started bouncing his right leg. Almost at once, he upset the table Harry was working at, sending his papers flying.  
  
"Ron, keep acting like this, and I'll take you to St. Mungo's myself." Harry said with a smirk, picking up his things.  
  
Meanwhile, Hermione had just informed the Fat lady that she had heard quite a dish of a gossip from the three little witches in the lake painting by the fourth floor. As soon as the word 'secret' passed through her lips, the Fat Lady was sprinting out of her frame. Making sure she was far enough away, Hermione walked over to the Urn.  
  
"What've you got there, Granger?" Draco peered up at her from his seat on the floor.  
  
"Just something that can let us explore for a while." Hermione unfurled the invisibility cloak. Draco raised his eyebrow and smirked.  
  
"I'm impressed. Seems you're not as much of a goody-goody as I thought." He stood up to face her.  
  
"Just get over here." She drew close, then wrapped the cloak around them.  
  
The cramped quarters didn't help Draco keep his mind clear. He felt her thigh brush between his legs. "Umm, where are we going?"  
  
Hermione turned around and began walking. "You'll see. All you have to do is follow me."  
  
Draco saw the back of her school robes swishing with every step, and sneered in amusement. With an ass like that, following would not be a problem.  
  
Neither would his plan to handle Hermione tonight. 


	9. Opposites Attract

The lake glittered as the moonlight hit the ripples on the surface. Every now and then, a tentacle would reach up and splash back down, sending shining drops of water into the air to rival the night stars. It really was quite beautiful, at least to Hermione.  
  
She spotted a flat stone by the back and took the invisibility cloak off the joint package of her and Draco. Hermione took a seat on the cool rock and settled herself to face the lake. She knew things had to be discussed. She had decided, in those split seconds in front of the Fat Lady's empty portrait, that she would never know how to handle the mess she had made for herself unless she knew what was going on. It was time to put things out into the open.  
  
She looked over at Draco Malfoy, who was looking out over the lake. There was something so melancholy about him, so morose and mad, and she couldn't figure out why. He had always been somewhat unhappy, or at least she thought so, being that he acted the way he did for the past five years. But now it was magnified. She almost didn't want to disturb him, but she knew that she had to say her piece.  
  
"Malfoy?" She said softly, and he slowly turned to face her. "Malfoy, please sit down. There's something I want to discuss."  
  
He grunted an approval and set himself next to her. Normally he would have been a bit more attentive, but his mind was rushing with thoughts, about everything from his father to the Quidditch game to his plan. He had to stick to his plan.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath. "It seems I've muddled things up for myself quite a bit lately, first with that detention, then with last night. I don't even know for sure if I should be out here right now with you. But there are things I've been thinking about and things I've been feeling, and. . .well, I suppose they need to be said."  
  
Draco turned to her and saw the starlight in her eyes. He turned away quickly and repeated to himself, *She's a Mudblood. She's a Mudblood.* Somehow he didn't feel reassured.  
  
"Malfoy. . ." It sounded so harsh to her. Hermione spoke more softly. "Draco. . ."  
  
They were both rather surprised. That was the first time she had ever actually said his name.  
  
"Draco, I don't know why I feel this way. It's stupid and uncalled for, and most likely not reciprocated, but I do. Perhaps it's desperation, because Ron isn't taking any initiative. Perhaps it's revenge against Pansy Parkinson. Perhaps I enjoy the attention or feelings I get. Perhaps it's because it's somewhat forbidden. Perhaps it's a manifestation of 'opposites attract'. I'm not sure. But. . ." Hermione took a deep breath.  
  
"Draco, I believe I'm starting to fall for you."  
  
The very utterance brightened Draco's mood tremendously. But that was because his plan was working, he told himself. He turned to her and put on the charm.  
  
"I thought you'd never feel the way I do." He lied. . .in the corner of his mind, though, he didn't think it felt like a lie. But it was; it had to be.  
  
Hermione looked somewhat surprised. "You do? You feel the same?"  
  
Draco used the self-poise that his father taught him to employ in sneaky situations. "I've felt this way for ages. I've already told you, I think you're stunning. But anything that goes on between us could. . .well. . .potentially cause a problem, don't you think?"  
  
"I thought so too!" Hermione look back out to the lake, and suddenly her face grew sullen. "If Ron finds out. . ."  
  
Draco tried to commiserate, and possibly take Hermione's mind off her mood- killing friends. His plan was going spectacularly so far. Last thing he needed was an image of the Weasel fucking things up for him. "If Ron finds out? You're not dating Ron. Pansy-- now that one's trouble. She's got the baby's names picked out already."  
  
"It's a girl thing. Every girl does it." Hermione chimed in.  
  
"Yes, well, the 'girl' can sit on me, easily. So I'm not too eager to have her find out."  
  
"Ron too. I suppose we'll have to keep things secret." She couldn't stop thinking of how this would hurt her friend. Hermione sighed and leaned her head down onto Draco's shoulder. The weight felt foreign to him. "This isn't going to be easy."  
  
Draco looked down at her. He almost felt pity for her. She was so morally inept-- too idealistic, too trusting. There was barely a hedonistic or corrupt bone in her body (He would change that. . .later). The way that she was acting, it made it seem like she honestly believed a snake could turn into a worm overnight. It made him feel almost guilty doing this. . .well, almost. This Slytherin snake was coiled and ready to strike.  
  
So he did. Placing his fingers on her chin, he lifted her face and his lips met hers. Almost instantly, Hermione forgot her worries, instead focusing on the feel of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. It reminded her of sweet butterbeer and chocolate. Her arms went to his neck, her hands running through the white blond hair at the nape. He was fantastic, he was amazing, he was. . .moving down to her neck? *This is new,* Hermione thought to herself, and then gasped as he gently nipped the spot where the neck and shoulder meet.  
  
Was this going according to his plan? Yes. But Draco could hardly call this work. Unlike all the other girls he had fucked and forgotten, Granger was different. Granger was enjoyable. His hand began to move to the front of her shirt.  
  
"Draco. . ." She whispered it. Dear God, that drove him mad. He took the buttons at the front of her shirt with wild speed. They almost threatened to rip.  
  
"Draco. . ." Another whisper. *Oh, I'm good. She's loving this! A 'Closet Freak' just like Crabbe had guessed!* Draco was inwardly pleased. Forgetting the shirt, he upped the ante, moving his hands down to the hem of her skirt.  
  
"Draco!"  
  
Draco looked up at this point. That was not a pleasurable moan. That was a desperate, attention getting rasp. *Damn it! Why the interruptions now!?*  
  
Hermione looked petrified, and began pawing the ground. "Where's the invisibility cloak? I hear someone coming."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes furiously. *Could have been me, if I had a few more minutes.*  
  
Hermione quickly found the cloth and flung it over the two of them. She motioned for him to be very silent. He waited impatiently for a sign of a single soul. Then finally, a shadow crept over them.  
  
Filch was approaching the lake with Hagrid, both looking suspiciously at the waters.  
  
"So yer sayin' yeh been hearing somethin' 'round the lake, eh, Filchy?" Hagrid had his crossbow out.  
  
"I'm telling you. I heard 'em with my own ears. A student. Two of 'em. Out of bed after hours. And I'm going to find 'em and see they're right punished." Filch narrowed his beady little eyes.  
  
Hagrid tried to remain serious, but nearly broke a smile, mostly out of pure frustration. "Punishments, Filch? What'll it be this time, eh? Hot oil or the rack?"  
  
Filch turned on him angrily. "I know what I heard! I'm telling you! Two students!" He threw up his fingers for emphasis. "Running around at midnight! And when I find 'em, they'll be on the first train home! I'm telling you!"  
  
"An' I'm tellin' yeh," Hagrid replied brusquely. "I ain't seen any students 'round here, not tonight, not any night. An' I'm tellin' yeh, its Bugbear season, an' those imps'll be out an' 'bout for the next few months, hootin' an' hollerin'. Jes' leave 'em be."  
  
"But. . ." Filch protested.  
  
Hagrid lowered his crossbow. Unfortunately, it was pointed right at Draco's bottom. Draco began to sweat as he saw Hagrid's fingers begin to tighten slightly in ire.  
  
"No 'buts', Filch. I got bigger things teh handle, like getting' that there batch o' Fealtyfay ready fer Dumbledore's disposal. I don' have time to be traipsin' about no lake." Hagrid began to leave.  
  
Filch quickly stepped in his way. "But you can't!" Hagrid tried to move past, but Filch wouldn't budge. He kept pushing and pushing and. . .  
  
"GODDAMN IT ARGUS! GET OUTA MY WAY!" Hagrid shoved the curmudgeon, who ran running back to the castle, but in the tense moment, tightened his hands. The trigger on the crossbow clicked, and the arrow went sailing.  
  
Right into Malfoy's behind. Hermione looked on amazed, and as the pain finally struck Draco, she pulled him into a kiss, muffling the sound of his discomfort.  
  
Hagrid turned at the stifled groan, but in the dark of night, he could not see what would have looked like his arrow floating in mid-air. He shook his head. "Bugbears. . ."  
  
Hermione watched until Hagrid was back inside his cottage, then she released Draco.  
  
"ARGH!" Draco nearly wept at the pain. "STUPID BLOODY BASTARD CAN'T FUCKIN' HANDLE A CRAPPY LITTLE CROSSBOW! FUCK! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" He began grasping desperately behind him for the arrow lodged in his left lower cheek. Hermione quickly got out from under the invisibility cloak, and yanked out the arrow. This only caused Draco to howl louder.  
  
"Shh! You've got to keep quiet! Filch is going to come back if you don't!" Hermione whispered desperately, taking off the cloak to keep it from being bloodied. Draco wouldn't stop yelping. She quickly reached for her wand and said clearly, "Silencius Temporare!"  
  
Immediately Draco's voice was barely audible. Hermione looked down at the cloak. Harry was going to kill her when he saw the hole the arrow left. She tried a common sewing spell, but the damage wasn't totally healed. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. *Better than nothing.*  
  
Draco lay on the ground, clutching his bottom and shouting about his ass. Hermione had read about this. . .puncture wounds. . .there had to be something. . .couldn't take him to Madame Pomfrey. . .too much to explain. . .oh yes! There was a spell for it!  
  
She knelt down next to Draco, and smoothed her hand comfortingly over his brow. "I know what to do, if you'll let me." She said in a whisper. "But it'll require you to remove those pants." *Not that I'd mind.* Hermione thought. Then she shook her head. *That was wrong! Very wrong!* She reproached herself. *Eh, who cares!*  
  
Draco nodded his understanding, and with great difficulty, rose, turned around, undid the buckle and dropped his trousers. There, staring Hermione in the face, was the brightest moon she had seen in her life.  
  
She smiled to herself as she examined the wound, perhaps a little longer than necessary. After all, this was a once in a lifetime occurrence. She might as well savor it. With a small poke of her wand, Hermione said the words "Posteriorus Anipunctori."  
  
The wound slowly healed. Draco began to straighten himself, and his muffled moans were beginning to cease.  
  
"Are you done?" He said, slightly louder than his dirges had been before. The silencing spell was beginning to wear off.  
  
Hermione smiled. "Just enjoying the view. You should know. . ."  
  
Draco smirked sarcastically. "Hope you enjoyed it. This will not happen again." He tried to kneel, still in a bit of pain, and managed to pick his pants up.  
  
Hermione tried to gain a peek at the front end of the young man, but failed. With an 'aww shucks' look to her face, she continued in her advice. "You should know that the healing process will take about 3 days. So classroom seats, beds, brooms. . .they're going to be a bit more uncomfortable."  
  
"You only did that so Slytherin would lose this Friday." He said, half angrily, half tauntingly.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Would have happened anyway. Harry is the best Seeker."  
  
Draco scowled. "Let's get back. It's been a long evening."  
  
Hermione fixed her clothes and grabbed the invisibility cloak. The two of them walked as fast as they could back to the castle, Draco's new limp especially prominent climbing the stairs.  
  
Hermione walked with Draco to the Slytherin common room entrance. "This way they won't see you walking around." She whispered. He got out from under the cloak and walked to the portrait on the wall. Hermione quickly grabbed his hand. "Wait." She pulled him back, and gave him a deep kiss. When she let go, he still had his eyes closed, and it seemed he was muttering something indistinct under his breath. "Well, goodnight." Hermione wrapped herself in the cloak and disappeared, her footsteps heard going down the hall.  
  
Draco leaned his head against the portrait. *She's a Mudblood. She's a Mudblood. She's a filthy fucking Mudblood.*  
  
"Excuse me, young sir, but I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly get off my canvas and get on with the password." The shrewd looking hook nosed man, neck wrapped tightly in an Elizabethan collar, glared down at him menacingly.  
  
"Badminton." He muttered, keeping his head down, trying to get the thoughts of Hermione out of his head. The portrait swung open, and he climbed inside, wearily pulling the door closed from inside. In his hand he still had the green Quidditch robes. He held them up to his nose. They smelled like her-- lavender and sunflowers. Again his mind surged with thoughts of her, quickly followed by his 'Mudblood' mantra.  
  
All he wanted was to get to bed. He limped around slowly. And came face to face with an angry Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"And just where have you been, Draco Darling?" 


	10. Just A Little Suspicious

A/N: Soooo sorry for the wait guys, but I suffered a moderate case of writer's block. Back, and on a roll now, so be ready for a bunch more chapters! This one should please Miss Fortune a bit (Lord knows she loves her R/Hrm!), but don't worry D/Hrm Fans, this is only a segue into a lot more romance and angst. Anyway, read, relax and review. In the meantime, I'll be sipping my Darjeeling tea. Anyone care for a cup?  
  
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Draco Malfoy stared at the fuming Pansy Parkinson. Her eyes were slitted and her nose scrunched up. From this angle, she was really beginning to resemble a roasted pig, all flushed and fatty.  
  
"You've been gone all night! It's nearly one in the morning! You left without telling anyone where you were going. You left without telling ME where you were going! It's inconsiderate! Where were you?" She nearly roared.  
  
Draco only stared at her, wearied.  
  
"Well, Draco, where were you?" Pansy demanded, fists balling up.  
  
"I was out." Draco tiredly said.  
  
"Out where?"  
  
*This bitch is really sounding like a wife.* Draco thought to himself. He remembered the robes he was holding. "Out looking for my Quidditch robes. See?" He shook the green cloth in front of her face. "Satisfied?"  
  
"No, no I'm not satisfied! Why didn't you tell me? I could have looked with you."  
  
"I didn't want to bother you." Draco said sleepily.  
  
Pansy watched him suspiciously. "And how on earth did you lose your Quidditch robes?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "I was getting hot after practice, so I took them off. Can I go to bed now?" He played it very calmly; after all, it was true-- in a sense.  
  
Pansy looked somewhat more content. She gazed at him for a moment, considering his statements, and then nodded. "I'm sorry sweetie. I should have been more understanding. It's just that Millicent said she had seen you going around with that ass Granger. It got me upset. It's stupid, I know." She giggled, and he half-heartedly chucked, muttering how something like that would never happen.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry for being hard on you. You go off to bed, Draco Darling." Pansy blew him a kiss. Draco smiled slightly back at her, and started walking to the boys' dormitories. Pansy caught note of his gait.  
  
"Umm, Draco, why are you limping?"  
  
He turned to face her from the open dormitory door. "Tripped on a trick stair. Almost fell through. Night."  
  
Draco quietly closed the door on a dumfounded Pansy Parkinson.  
  
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"So where'd you go? Find any new passageways? Anything not listed on the Marauder's Map? Do something really illegal? How many rules did you break? Six? Seven?" Harry only stopped his questioning to take a sip of hot mulled apple cider. Ron was silently eyeing Hermione, stuffing his cheeks full of pumpkin pancakes. Harry leaned forward anxiously. "Must have been really good if you had to take the invisibility cloak!"  
  
Hermione looked up, puffy eyed and sleepy, from the newly delivered Daily Prophet. She was nursing a very generously poured cup of coffee. "Harry, you have all the energy of Colin Creevey on a sugar high. And right now, it's annoying me."  
  
Harry laughed. "Aw, come on, 'Mione! We hate being left out like this. You know how much me and Ron enjoy adventures. Shit, we've been on enough ourselves." He struck Ron on the back, causing his to just about choke on a half-eaten piece of pancake.  
  
"It wasn't an adventure." Hermione said as she took a bite of her gooseberry jam tart. She looked up and spotted Draco Malfoy, who was watching her from between his Slytherin schoolmates. She quickly felt the heat rising to her face, and looked down. "Besides, even if it was, I couldn't tell you about it."  
  
Ron washed down his breakfast with a big gulp of pumpkin juice. "So it's a secret, huh? That means we'll find out about it eventually, eh Harry?"  
  
Harry grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "It'll only take a little investigating."  
  
Hermione suddenly felt very self-conscious, all these eyes fixed on her-- Ron, Harry, Draco. She put down her breakfast, no longer hungry, and mumbled her wish to get to classes early as she got up from the table. Gathering her things, she quickly walked out of the hall.  
  
Halfway up the flight of stairs to Transfiguration, Hermione felt a presence. She smiled widely. It had to be him. He had come to talk to her, risk everything being made public. He had cared enough to see she was upset at breakfast. He. . .  
  
Hermione turned around, and the smile dropped.  
  
Standing in front of her, mere inches from her face, was Pansy Parkinson. She sneered a cold hello.  
  
"Well, if it isn't the Granger Git. How's the morning, Mudblood?" Pansy's eyes narrowed.  
  
Hermione faced Pansy, eye to eye. Lack of sleep gave her little patience and a lot of nerve. "Wonderful, I imagine. After all, I didn't see your face when I looked in the mirror."  
  
"Watch it, Granger, or I may find a way to take a weedwhacker to that thatch of yours. It's really interesting anyway, though. You look like a Mudblood Medusa."  
  
Hermione sarcastically smiled. "Gee, I can see how much better you full- bloods are. Just look at your manners!"  
  
Pansy's lip curled up. "We save our good manners for those who count, Mudblood."  
  
"And our intelligence as well, it seems."  
  
Pansy growled harshly. Hermione cut her off. "Just what exactly do you want, Pansy?"  
  
"I want you to know that I've heard about you and your little thing for Draco." Her fists clenched till her knuckled cracked. "And I know that Draco wants nothing to do with you, and has kept clear of you. But if I hear one word, just one word, about you doing anything to take him away from me, you will pay dearly."  
  
Inside, Hermione's stomach was doing flip-flops, but on the outside she fixed a cool demeanor. "Why Pansy, there's no need to get jealous. What would I want with Malfoy anyway? Especially after he's been with you. Lord only knows what disease one could pick up from him now."  
  
Pansy lunged forward, grabbing Hermione around the neck. She quickly counteracted with a swift but aimless right hook. Pansy let out a squeal, the side of her skull throbbing. Slapping and snarling, they hurtled to the floor, rolling and hitting and sparring. A fairly small group of male students had gathered around, excitedly murmuring about the ensuing catfight. Hermione pounded her fist into Pansy's gut, who was busy roughly kicking Hermione in the shins, hands still scratching at her face. Colin Creevey, tiny as he was, was able to squeeze his way through the crowd and began snapping pictures of the scene, just as Hermione managed to tear out a chunk of Pansy's hair. She screamed in agony, causing Hermione to smile in her small victory, but suddenly she felt the two being separated.  
  
The rage in her caused Hermione to struggle forward, arms outstretched and teeth bared, for the distancing Pansy. Her right hand still firmly clutched the strands of Pansy's locks. It took a few moments for her to realize she would not get out of the solid grip she was in, finally allowing her mind to cool and to focus on the area around her. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Ron was restraining her, a look of concern on his freckled face. Hermione suddenly felt a flush of warmth-- he had come to help her when she needed it.  
  
"You bloody bitch! I'll get you for what u did! I swear it!" Pansy screeched angrily, calling Hermione's attention towards her. She tried to lurch forward, but her arms were held tightly by Draco Malfoy, his face molded into his usual look, one eyebrow cocked. Pansy composed herself with his presence. She looked up at him in a mixture of appreciation and anger.  
  
His deep voice imposed over the crowd's now whispers. "Are you alright?" He was staring coolly at Hermione, but Pansy answered him.  
  
"I'm fine, Draco darling. But that Mudblood tried to attack me!"  
  
Half-surprised that Pansy would answer him, he gaze shot down towards her expectant face. She bore a forming lump on her forehead and the scratches of an animalistic fight. But instead of feeling sorry for her, Draco was disgusted. His father's words rang in his head: "A true lady fights only for protection, either of you or of herself." And somehow, Draco was near certain that Pansy was not acting on self-defense.  
  
In spite of all his disgust, Draco pulled his thoughts together. To give away his opinions now, in word or action, would arouse suspicion. And the last thing he intended to do was to be caught, especially when the plan was working so well. He had Granger wrapped around his finger. She liked him, and he liked. . .*No,* he thought. *I could never. Father would disapprove. She's a Mudblood. A filthy fucking Mudblood.* Draco had to gain control of the situation. He had to behave the way he was expected.  
  
Draco stiffened his stance and thrust up his chin. "I'm sure, Weasel, that you can keep the dirty Mudblood bitch under control from now on. That won't be too hard for you, now will it?"  
  
"Not half as hard as I can make life for you, you little shit." Ron spit back.  
  
"Oh, I quiver right down to the quills. You have nothing to fear from me, poor boy. . . unless of course you're nervous that you'll lose your cheap little slut to me. Not that I would ever stoop so low as to fuck a swine-y little Mudblood."  
  
Ron's eyes could have shot daggers his way, but what Draco noticed more was the confused and hurt look on Hermione's face. She now curled slightly into Ron's arms, her eyes turned down to the floor. It was as if she had been kicked in the stomach, and it sent an oddly tight feeling to Draco's chest. He brushed off her look to the wallop she had received from Pansy only moments before.  
  
Ron growled. "Keep your git of a girlfriend far away from mine, Malfoy. Or I will make you regret it."  
  
Draco smirked. "I'm sure you will. Perhaps on the Quidditch field then? You certainly made quite a wonderful seeker last year, didn't you?" The surrounding Slytherins snickered.  
  
Ron huffed, ears turning a bright red, and he quickly escorted Hermione out of the hallway. She turned a sad but surprised face towards him.  
  
"Did you mean it? What you said?" She took her proffered school bag, which Ron had hauled up from the floor.  
  
Ron looked nervously at the floor. "Said about what?"  
  
"About me being your girlfriend."  
  
"Well. . .I-I. . .I. . ." He stammered fiercely as they made their way to the transfiguration classroom door. "I've always liked you, 'Mione. Never liked anyone else. . .well, except for that Fleur Delaceur." He stopped and blinked, realizing what he said. He quickly raced for an excuse. "But she was part veela! It wasn't really my fault! I couldn't help myself! She. . ."  
  
Hermione silenced him with a raised hand. "You don't have to explain to me. I've read up on all that ages ago."  
  
Ron settled and sighed, relaxing a bit. "Well, the point is, I haven't fancied anyone but you. I feel pretty strongly about this. The really fancying part, I mean. And I hope you feel the same way too. . .about me, that is." Inwardly, he cringed. She was making him nervous again. "Y-you do feel the same way, don't you?"  
  
Hermione stood and gaped at him. A flash of Draco's face appeared in her mind, accompanied with all that had occurred between them, but she shoved it all away with force. *You've ruined many sleep-filled nights for me, Malfoy. But you are not ruining this for me now.* Hermione winced, remembering his words. *Not after what you said.* Hermione stood tall, and looked Ron in the eye. This was the one who came to her aide when she needed it. This was the one who stood up for her, all those times Malfoy or Pansy made comments. This was her friend. She knew the answer she should give.  
  
"Yes, I feel the same way. I never thought you'd ever make a move though."  
  
Ron's face brightened, a huge smile forming on his face. "You do!? You do!" Catching himself in his over-enthusiasm, he took a new self-possession, and tried to speak with a deeper, more masculine voice. It made Hermione smile. "I-I mean, you do. Of course you do." Ugh, this wasn't working for him either! Ron again felt his nervousness return. "So. . .umm, Hermione, would you, umm, accompany me this weekend to Hogsmeade?"  
  
Hermione giggled. "Ron, we always go to Hogsmeade together. Harry usually comes along too. Remember?"  
  
"Right, right, of course, but this time it's kind of different. Harry can come along if he's like, I guess. But this time it's different."  
  
Hermione didn't really see how it was, but she shrugged and made her way into Transfiguration. Was she happy? Yes. But it was marred by something more. Malfoy. Goddamn Malfoy. *He said he cared.* Hermione thought. *Well, if he cared, then he never would have said what he said. He never would have called me that.* She sighed, remembering what he had said the night before. Could she really ever take him seriously? He was a Malfoy after all; there was very little to trust there. But why would he lie about all that? Why would he play any games with her. Hermione averted her thoughts away from that. She was happy now. Ron had finally asked her out. This was a moment to be rejoicing.  
  
Somehow she didn't feel like it.  
  
Hermione set her things out at her desk, hoping that class would take her mind off things. There was work to do, and, as was her way, she was intent on doing it. 


	11. The Quidditch Fields of Hogwarts

A/N: So it's 3:22 in the morning and I'm still writing this. I guess it's worth it. I'm bringing back Oliver Wood (::drools:: Sean Biggerstaff!!!). Don't worry, it'll work. The chapter's kind of based on the quote by George Orwell, that history "is decided on the playing fields of Eton." Well this ain't Eton, but it's famous and English, so I'm sure there are similarities. We'll just let history be decided on the Quidditch fields of Hogwarts then. . .  
  
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*The fifth letter today! He just doesn't get it!* Hermione thought to herself, crumpling up the parchment and threw it into the nearest fireplace. The library was near empty so no one truly noticed her angry outburst but the portrait of Sir Wellington Stoole , the first wizard to promote positive muggle-wizard relations. He drew back in his portrait at the poof of sparks that emitted from the fireplace-- those things happened with enchanted letters all the time, but over the course of 647 years, he still had not gotten used to it.  
  
Hermione, on the other hand, was blatantly ignoring the flash show going on behind her. She instead focused, or tried to focus, on her arithmancy homework. But she couldn't, just could not get her mind off of what Draco had called her. And then all the letters, filled with half-excuses asking for forgiveness, all the while enchanted so only she could read them. 'I'm sorry Hermione. I had a headache, so I was angry.' Or better still, 'I took medication for that incident last night, so my mind was a bit foggy.' But the best yet had to be 'I didn't know it was you. Thought it was someone else.' Hermione nearly laughed out of insane ire. *Why didn't he just say he was nutters, just let out of St. Mungo's? Or maybe that he had just taken a potion that morning and it permanently lodged his head up his arse? Or perhaps, perhaps he could just tell the truth!* Hermione was putting ever more pressure on her quill, and in the middle of her angry thoughts, the quill tip snapped in half. With an exasperated sigh, she took a closer look, realizing that her homework would have to go unfinished for the night. She certainly couldn't write with this anymore.. Ugh, this was all Malfoy's fault. He was upending her life.  
  
She slammed her books closed and threw them into her bag. The only thing that would brighten her life was the Quidditch match the next day. Hermione hoped that Gryffindor would win this one, but with the newest batch of members on the team, she somehow doubted that outcome.  
  
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Draco couldn't understand it. He had sent five letters, and Hermione hadn't responded to a single one. She should have responded by now. Maybe his plan wasn't working as well as it should. . .  
  
But that could be remedied! The plan could still work. She could still be won over. She could still like him. Draco looked in his mirror, fastening the clasp on his Slytherin green Quidditch robe. He picked up the collar, and brought it to his nose. It still smelled like her, lavender and sunflowers. He could still like her. . .  
  
But that would never happen. Draco would never allow that. Not with a Mudblood. Not something his father would frown upon. He looked down at his latest package from home, a brand new Fire Jet 5, by Firebolt. Enclosed in the box was a letter from Lucius Malfoy, in aristocratic scrawling script. He had promised his son the newest and best in the broom-line, and he had pulled through, even from behind bars, but with the strictest of conditions that it be used to beat Harry Potter. He certainly had enough of a reason to beat Gryffindor on the threats that the disrespectful Ron Weasley had dished out to him yesterday. Draco's resolve shot right back up where he wanted it to be. He grabbed his Fire Jet fiercely and strode out the doors. It was time to take care of business.  
  
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The crowd was roaring, creating a ring in Hermione's ears as she edged her way to the front of the viewing booth. She finally pushed her way through and slid down the row of seats to the one Parvati Patil had saved for her. Parvati, accompanied by Lavender Brown, smiled up to her as she sat down.  
  
"Hey you. You're looking a little high strung today. Too much coffee this morning?"  
  
Hermione smiled uneasily. "Just excited about the game!" Nervous was more like it. She was wishing upon wishes that Ron, who had been practicing all summer as keeper, could do a better job than he had done the year before. She peered across the field to the Slytherin stands. They were already rehearsing "Weasley is Our King". . .and the game hadn't even started yet.  
  
She felt a presence sit next to her. Turning to face it, she was greeted by Oliver Wood.  
  
"Harry's friend, right? I think it was Hermione?" He noted, and she shook her head yes. "Heh, good to remember someone not on the field right now! Doesn't happen often."  
  
Hermione gave a polite smile and a half-amused laugh. "Don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing here. Last I heard from Harry, you were off training with your team."  
  
"Aye, went pro now." He said with his Scottish roll. "But we're on a break at the moment. Coach wanted to be present at the birth of his triplets. If you ask me, it was damn inconsiderate of that woman, going into labour at the start of training. At least there will be some kids around now to teach during after-season. That's what I want to do, after all the team business gets old-- teach. Anyway, Dumbledorr found out, wise man he is, and invited me to come and view the game. Said I could sit in the faculty stand with him. But I thought it would be nice to view it all from the house stands. Never actually sat here before." He knocked the bench with his knuckles. "Rather uncomfortable, eh?"  
  
Slowly, almost impossibly, the roar of the crowd grew louder. Hermione turned to the base of the Quidditch stadium. The doors to the team halls were opened, and the players, swiftly and adeptly, flew onto the field. The decibel was deafening as each team swept over their house's stands. The students went wild, cheering and waving their house colors. Hermione tried desperately to find Ron and Harry, but she could not see them amidst the crimson and gold banners. She couldn't see Malfoy either; not that she was looking for him, she told herself.  
  
Finally Madame Hooch blew the whistle, calling the players down to their respective half of the field. The crowd finally eased back a bit into their seats. Then she saw them. Draco and Harry head to head in front of Madame Hooch, and close behind Harry was Ron. She could practically feel the disgust between them, knowing full well that Harry knew what had happened the day before. Parvati and Lavender spoke at great length about it.  
  
"Clean match today, you hear? I mean it! I have absolutely no tolerance for the foul tricks anymore." Madame Hooch boomed, but then began talking under her breath. "Turning Quidditch into a circus, they are. Every year something new happens. No respect for the game. Children! Humph! Honestly. . ." Realizing she was talking to herself, she straightened and set a resolute look upon her face. She picked up the golden snitch, glanced at it with admiration, and sent it buzzing into the air. "Players, mount your brooms!"  
  
Madame Hooch released the bludgers as the teams straddled the broomsticks. Hermione could see Draco mutter something, and Harry's knuckles turn white with tightness on his broom handle.  
  
"On my whistle. . ."  
  
Madam Hooch fingered the quaffle with animation. The air was electric, the crowd dulling their noise even lower in expectation. The players tensed on their brooms, leaning forward slightly. She could see Harry gesture to Ron, and muttering back and forth with Draco.  
  
::PSSSSSSSSSSSSST!:: The shrill whistle blew as Madame Hooch hurled the quaffle up in the air. In that split second, the players kicked off and thrust themselves upward, scurrying to find their places, find their respective playing balls, find where the enemy was.  
  
Ginny Weasley, skillful in her role as a chaser, snatched up the quaffle and raced down the field, swerving to avoid the foreboding Millicent Bulstrode, new addition to the Slytherin refrigerator-like line up. Goyle launched a fierce bludger attack, but Ginny swiftly dodged it, and with a slick fake, she hurled the quaffle through the middle ring.  
  
10 points for Gryffindor. Hermione sighed appreciatively as the crowd around her went wild. A play was made for the Gryffindor rings, and Hermione rung her scarf so tight, she nearly pulled off the tassels. But Ron, pulling through with his newfound competence, managed to block it. Again the Gryffindor stands roared, waving their pennants, and Hermione, noting Ron glancing her way, smiled broadly at him and applauded.  
  
He burst into a grin and took a whole new confidence. Suddenly aware that there was a fan out there in the crowd, just for him, he began racing to make the saves, darting from ring to ring and making plays that he had "obviously read about in a textbook," according to Oliver. Gryffindor was racking up the points, now 110 to 70.  
  
The Slytherin stands were now hissing in fury. Another quaffle was thrown at the Gryffindor rings, and Ron, smooth and with a slight over-confidence, flipped backward on the broom to knock it back into play. Gryffindors started screaming in excitement. Hermione cheered, but looked further upward, searching for Harry and his hunt for the snitch.  
  
She spotted him, crimson robes beginning to swing over his left shoulder as Draco, perched next to him, repeatedly shoved him over with his broom. He must have said something nasty, because Harry started pushing back. The driving was gaining in momentum, and Draco began to go beyond muttering. It looked like he was all out shouting.  
  
Hermione raised her wand discretely and whispered an incantation to hear them. Suddenly, their voices grew loud in her right ear. She could hear everything they were saying, or at this point, screaming.  
  
"You've always been a filthy fucker, Malfoy! You and your fat arse girlfriend!" Harry shouldered Draco again. "Bit of a crumpet, ain't she!?"  
  
Draco laughed menacingly and violently shoved back with each statement. "The Mudblood Granger's the only one here who's a crumpet. Everyone wants to fuck her. Even you want to fuck her. Only reason you're all gamed up about it is because Ron's going to get between those legs first. He always gets everything-- the credit when you do the work, the family when you have no one, the girl when you got rejected last year, the support, the friendships, the romance. So why don't you do it? Why don't you attack him instead of me? What do you have to lose?"  
  
Harry snarled in resentment, but did not say a word. Draco knew he had him where he wanted him. At that moment, Crabbe flew past him, slightly slowly because of his growing mass. Draco lunged out for the beater stick. "Here, Potter, I'll do it for you!"  
  
With precise aim, he caught the next bludger and sent it sailing toward Ron, who had made another astonishing play. Hermione stood up in desperation, gripping the railing in front of her. In the midst of his achievement, the growling ball hurtled to the back of his skull, and a low crunch could be heard. The crowd gave a collective gasp as the crimson cloaked keeper slowly tipped to the floor.  
  
Hermione quickly averted her eyes, so she would not see Ron land on the grass below. Instead she brought them quickly up to Draco and Harry. Anger surged through her. *He's a asshole!* She thought, peering up at Draco. *A goddamn asshole!*  
  
Harry was looking at him in disbelief. Draco smirked evilly. "There, Potter, all done. Just what you wanted to do."  
  
"That's not what I wanted to do." Harry said firmly.  
  
"Oh, and do tell, what was it you had in mind?"  
  
Harry's eyes brightened. "This!" He hand shot out toward Draco's left ear. Thinking that he was intending to hit him, Draco ducked. But Harry never had that in mind. Instead, his fingers closed around the cold golden ball.  
  
Harry had caught the snitch.  
  
Draco came back up, face in amazement, as Harry shook the snitch in his face triumphantly.  
  
"Do us all a favor, and stay far away from any Gryffindors, you Voldemort- loving bastard." Harry flew down toward the ground, to where his friend was lying. Madame Hooch had blown the whistle, and announced the winner to the raving crowd, then rushed over to help the injured Ron.  
  
"Did you see that!? Did you see that!? Got what he deserved, dirty playing little bugger he is! Right behind his ear! Did you see that!?" Oliver was howling in happiness. Hermione held up her wand to her ear, and muttering the counter-incantation, shoved the elated Oliver Wood aside and ran down the stands to the field.  
  
Harry was talking fiercely to Professor McGonagall as Hermione passed, pointing and hissing about Malfoy's misbehavior during the game. All she could do was nod and try to allay her emphatic seeker. Professor Snape stood nearby, looking down his long nose in disgust as the fuming friend.  
  
Ron was lying there, head slightly bloodied, and looking obviously dizzy. He tried to pick his head up as she neared, but set it back with a groan. Hermione knelt next to him and grabbed his hand.  
  
"Are you alright?" She said with worry.  
  
"Of course I am. Just fine." Ron tried to brush it off. Eager to change the subject away from his less-than-strong state, he eagerly asked her, "Did you see those plays? Fred and George helped me all summer to learn those. I. . .oww!" Madame Pomfrey had lifted his head and was poking around at the site of the smash. "Easy there! May have lost a few brain cells, but I didn't lose any feeling!" He squeezed Hermione's hand to the point of pain, and when she finally pulled herself from his grip, her fingers were red and throbbing.  
  
Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes and motioned to four house elves, each manning a corner of a stretcher. They jumped to attention and half-heaved, half-rolled Ron onto the pallet. He moaned in pain as they strained to lift him. Madame Pomfrey laughed under her breath. "Boys are usually the biggest complainers with these things." She said to Hermione, who smiled politely back. Pomfrey looked down at her patient. "We can get you fixed up, but it may take a few days in the hospital wing. Earliest I can say you'll be out is perhaps Monday."  
  
"But. . .but. . .what about Hogsmeade?" Ron looked flustered.  
  
"Hogsmeade can wait for another weekend, dear. You could have a concussion! Let's think about your skull rather than the sugar ones in the candy stores, alright?"  
  
Hermione, still in a kneeling position, whispered to Ron. "Don't worry about Hogsmeade tomorrow. Health is more important than butterbeers."  
  
Ron nodded in response, still somewhat sullen, and the house elves began to carry him across the grass back into the castle. Hermione stayed seated, feeling somehow to blame for the altercation between Draco and Ron. Harry saw the look on her face and came over.  
  
Balancing on the balls of his feet, he patted her on the shoulder. "I spoke to McGonagall, and had a few words with Hooch, and although they can't technically punish Malfoy, because there's risk in the game, they're going to be keeping a very close eye on him. So everything will be fine." Harry stood up and began walking toward the castle. He called over his shoulder. "I'll see you back in the common room."  
  
Hermione, for all her frustration, anger and anxiety, couldn't handle much more of the drama. She stood up violently, incensed with herself, with the way she had handled Ron and Draco, with the things that Fate was throwing her. It wasn't fair! She had to worry about more in the past few days than she had to in a long while. She just wanted to manage things the right way. But it didn't look like she was doing such a great job at it.  
  
Staring at the grass, she saw two boots approaching her. Looking up, it was Draco Malfoy. He stopped no less than a foot away from her. She could smell the sweat, the musk of his cologne, only this time, Hermione curled her lip in disgust. Without a word, she raised her chin, and pivoting, strode off the field, leaving Draco standing solitary, silently and stupidly.  
  
Draco raised his brows, too in shock at the confident move to focus on the plan. Hermione had acted in a very un-Granger-like action.  
  
In fact, it was something he would have done. 


	12. For Argument's Sake

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, guys. What with that huge blackout, college starting, a major case of writer's block, and a penchant for perfectionism, this chapter didn't come out quite as quickly as I had hoped. But it's up now. A little short, but well worth it, and I'm working on the next one. Hope you'll enjoy. And I'm sure you will, if you enjoy confrontations. . .  
  
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Hermione sat by the bed, Harry standing behind her. She looked a little glum, eyes staring at the floor as Ron spoke.  
  
"Really, it's okay. You can go to Hogsmeade. That's fine." Ron said without much resolve. He wanted to go so badly! Damn Malfoy and his bludger! He messed up Ron's whole plan for the day.  
  
"But if you want me to stay. . ." Hermione replied, seeking to find a middle ground for her guilt.  
  
Ron quickly interjected. "No. No, you go. I wouldn't want your fun spoiled all because of me. I'll be fine here. Got my chocolate frogs, and a batch of Fred and George's new Portable Puddles. Might be interesting to see how many people I can slip." Ron gave a half-hearted smile. "And besides, if you don't go, Harry'll be alone. And if that happens, he may start talking to Cho again."  
  
Harry winced slightly and nearly chuckled, remembering the grand mess he had made the last few times he and Cho had spoken. They hadn't talked since. In fact, he hadn't really seen her since, and nearly forgotten what her personality was like now. Funny, all that really came to mind for him was tears. Lots of them. Mostly from her. . .  
  
Looking down at Hermione, Harry felt a warmth. Perhaps it was sympathy, or friendship, or maybe something else, but he quickly put his hand on her shoulder and said softly, "Whatever you want to do is fine, so don't worry about me. But you'd better make up your mind. It's nearly time for everyone to leave."  
  
Hermione silently shrugged, and stood up, giving Ron's hand a quick squeeze, and then she turned and strode out the door. She was a horrible person, she was sure of it. She had betrayed her friends to humor her hormones with their greatest enemy. She had nearly trusted him, nearly fallen for him, nearly lost Ron. She was ridiculed and derided by the very boy that she both liked and hated. She was the catalyst for Draco's bludger attack. It was her fault. And yet. . .and yet she had dreamed of him last night.  
  
She hated herself for liking him, for being taken in. Hermione frowned. She expected more of herself. For Merlin's sake, she was an intelligent girl! Why hadn't she seen that this would happen? Why hadn't she known?  
  
Harry caught up to her brisk gait and laughed. "Trying to get away from me, huh?"  
  
Hermione was snapped away from her thoughts. "Oh, sorry. Must be a bit preoccupied at the moment." She looked back down at the floor as she walked out the entrance gate of Hogwarts. The road to Hogsmeade was crowded with students, each vying to get their friends' attentions, pushing to get away from the teachers quicker. But Hermione hardly noticed them at all. Instead she stared at her shoes, slightly dirty from yesterday's run on the field.  
  
Harry caught the look on her face. Curiously, he continued. "You know, if there's something you've got on your mind, perhaps it would be best to say it. We're friends, you know. You can tell me."  
  
She grew hesitant. She wanted so much to tell someone, anyone at all. But she couldn't, and she knew just why. She had done so much wrong! And for the very life of her, she didn't know how to fix things. The disappointment built up in her, and she blinked away a few frustrated tears. "It's nothing. I'm fine." Silence reigned for long moments afterward.  
  
They were nearing the main road of Hogsmeade. Harry was getting fidgety. "Seriously, 'Mione, I want to know what's going on. You're different now. So tell me." He straightened up, to try to make it seem more like a demand, but in reality, he knew he could never demand anything of her. He'd never been able to, ever. Those deep brown eyes could never let him.  
  
And those deep brown eyes turned up at him, with a glint that Harry hadn't seen before. She spoke slowly, deliberately. "I don't have to tell you anything. There's nothing wrong with me, do you understand?"  
  
Harry was taken aback. He proceeded calmly, but very cautiously. Something in the pit of his stomach told him it would be dangerous to do so otherwise. "That's horse shit, Hermione, and you know it as well as I do. Whatever it is, I don't care. Just as long as I know everything is alright."  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed. She had too much on her mind, and this questioning was getting obnoxious. "I said it was nothing. Can't you hear? I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to discuss. I don't want anything but for you to leave me alone."  
  
Harry was getting exasperated. "Fine. Keep to your fucking self. All I know is you've been a pretty shitty friend lately, running off on us, mouthing off on us, and treating us like we're only there for appearances. You've changed, gone nutters, and it's just shit. I don't want you to act like you're forced to keep my company. I don't want you to take my stuff and never tell me why. In fact, to use your words, I don't want anything but for you to leave me alone. At least until you bring your attitude back to earth. I'll see you around."  
  
Harry stormed away from Hermione, turning into the entrance of the new barbershop, Marvelous Mac Mane. Hermione nearly stomped her foot in anger. Could everything go wrong right now? Why now? Something had to go right. Suddenly, Hermione heard a laugh behind her. She turned to spot the tall towheaded Slytherin, arms folded across his broad chest in a rich green sweater.  
  
"Feel pity for the barber that tries to tame Potter's hair. Never can keep it from standing on end, can he? Atrocious. Although I have to say, you're looking altogether lovely today." Hermione caught Draco casually eyeing her form. She felt disgust. "Blue really does you justice." He edged closer to her, trying to reach a hand out to rub against the cashmere of her shirt.  
  
"Keep your filthy hands off me, you little snipe!" She pulled away from him quickly, scowling at the flicker of shock on his face. That bastard had managed to ruin a lot for her in the past few days. She had no sympathy for him. No pity. And certainly now, no mercy.  
  
Draco composed himself. "That's a harsh way to speak, don't you think?"  
  
"Not for a 'mudblood'! Not to you!"  
  
"Now I simply don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"That's all that I am to you! A Mudblood! That's it! I heard you! I heard you say it to Pansy! I heard what you said to Harry at the game yesterday! I did a charm and I heard it all! And you, Draco Malfoy, are a liar and a bastard. All you've ever done to me was lie! And worst of all, you're a cheat! I saw what you did to Ron!"  
  
"Hey, look now," Draco raised his hands to stop her. "Ron knew the risks of playing Quidditch. There's always a chance that we could be hurt."  
  
"Oh bullshit Malfoy!"  
  
Draco raised his eyebrows. "Such dirty words out of such a sweet mouth. Why don't we stop arguing and get back to that. I like you better when you're using that tongue for other things."  
  
Hermione's rage hit its peak. She began to scream. People began to stare. She couldn't have cared less. She spat out his name like it was venom. "Fuck you, Draco Malfoy! Fuck you for the shit you did to my friends! Fuck you for every little remark you have ever made about us! Fuck you for being the pompous asshole that you are! I wish only the worst on you! Death is too good for you! You are just like your traitorous, arrogant, murdering father! Filthy fuck he is! I hope he rots in Azkaban! And I wish you just as much luck! You're a waste of breath, you slimy sack of shit, and your mother should have swallowed you!" Hermione took a deep breathe, having raged quickly through her tirade. She noticed the people around her, students and adults alike, eyeing the two. She noticed Draco's face, with an emotion she'd never quite seen before on him. She drew in close and rasped out her message so that only he could hear. "Listen to me, Draco Malfoy, because I only say this once. You stay far away from me. Far. The hell. Away. I am disgusted with you and your lies and your games. And I am disgusted with myself, for falling for them. They have come so close to destroying everything I hold dear. So shame on me for that flirting, and those kisses, and that hope that you had changed. Shame on me." Hermione let one frustrated tear fall. Draco felt a pang in his stomach. "And shame on me for letting you hurt me so."  
  
Hermione stood back, refusing to look at Draco's face. She raised her chin, in what she knew to be a false air of confidence, and turned to walk down the road, walking back to Hogwarts. She did not want to stay in Hogsmeade a moment longer.  
  
Draco stood there, in the middle of the road, speechless. She said it herself, everything she loved was being destroyed. That had to be her friendships with Harry and Ron. His plan was working. He should have been happy.  
  
But he wasn't. All he saw was that tear, slowly forming a glistening trail down her cheek. That porcelain cheek. Dare he say it, he missed that cheek, missed the arms rapped around him. Missed them so much, he almost felt them. . .  
  
Then he heard it. That irritating voice baby talking in his ear. Pansy Parkinson rested her head on Draco's shoulder. "Did that lil bitchy witchy say something mean to my Dwaco?" She quickly pecked him on the cheek. Draco could feel the grease slime across her mouth from the popcorn balls she had eaten, and he fought a strong gag reflex. "No one should get away with bothering my Draco Darling. You shouldn't let her off the hook for that. Impudent Mudblood."  
  
Draco was shocked, both at the fact that Pansy had used a large word, and the fact that she was correct. Granger couldn't get away with that. Not after what she had said about his father. Granted, the man may have made a few mistakes. But that was his father. And you just don't say that about someone's parent. 'Rot in Azkaban'? How dare she! No, she deserved what she had coming to her, and she deserved everything he had planned for her. All three of them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, deserved it. He would follow through, and there would be no remorse in it. He'd simply have to make sure of it. After all, it's not like he cared for her at all. . .  
  
He saw her, a little blue-clad spot on the long road back to Hogwarts, and a tingle ran down his spine.  
  
This plan was proving more difficult than he thought. 


	13. Granting Pardon

A/N- Mmm-kay, so it's nearly the butt-crack of dawn, and I have so much work to do for my classes, but I don't want to do it. So instead, I'm sitting in my basement on my laptop working on this story. Well, that and daydreaming about my St John's U soccer boys. ::drool:: Again, apologies at the length of time it took to put this out. I hope you guys think it's worth it.  
  
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Friday morning, and the house elves were busily working. Draco could smell it, wafting up slowly in the air, the bacon and eggs and the crisp toast. The aroma would make just about anyone want to sleep in comfortably, but Malfoy was preoccupied. He strode down the hall toward the library. Things had to be cleared up before his plan could continue.  
  
After all, you can't ruin the reputation of a girl who won't go near you.  
  
Draco cringed. He honestly hadn't thought she would listen in like that. But then again, this was Granger he was talking about. The girl knew more spells that Professor Flitwick. Her charm-work had put an all too large barrier in his path. Getting her forgiveness would not be easy. But asking for it wouldn't be either. He let out a grunt of disapproval, her words echoing in his head. 'I hope he rots in Azkaban!'  
  
Draco's mind flooded with memories, reading spell books on his father's lap, sitting at the fireplace listening to stories of his family's past. 'Be proud, Draco!' Lucius had always said, 'I've given you a legacy like no other. A marvelous past, and a fantastic future.' He'd point to various portraits on the wall, and murmur to the little boy he carried, 'See that one, Draco? That's you're great-great-great. . .And they changed wizarding history. And you will do the same. You have their blood in your veins.'  
  
Well, Draco had his father's blood in his veins too, and he'd be damned if he were about to feel ashamed of that. He was a pureblood wizard, strong as a thoroughbred horse, and with the wits of centuries behind him. The wits of his father. . .  
  
His papa's court date was coming up soon. Draco was beginning to worry. He had seen the Daily Prophet, the gossip going around about the trial. It wasn't looking good. Draco knew his dad was in the wrong; the man had done a lot of horrible things, including a few to his wife and child. But that was his father. That was his blood. Draco couldn't just turn away from that. And he certainly wouldn't let someone get away with ruining his family name.  
  
That strong-willed inspiration came just as Draco entered the library and spotted his prey. There she was, frazzle-haired and bent over a book by the restricted section, just where he knew she would be. It had been six days since he had last spoken to her, since she had told him off. And he had spent a lot of time and money figuring out a way to work his strategy out. Draco fingered the box inside his right pocket, and stared at the girl across the room. This would be a cinch. He started walking toward her, his strong steps making audible clacks on the floor of the empty room.  
  
Hermione looked up at the noise and scowled. *What a wonderful way to start the day!* She thought to herself. She turned her head back down to the notes she was copying into her arithmancy workbook. Without looking up, she called to him coldly.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?"  
  
The ice in her voice was apparent. Draco nearly faltered in his response. "I. . .well, I want to explain myself."  
  
"You lie." She put plainly, her eyes still focused firmly on her paper. Her quill was pressing down harder though.  
  
"I won't this time." Draco lied.  
  
"I thought I made myself clear." She still wouldn't look at him. He had to make her look at him. No progress would be made if she would not even visually acknowledge his presence.  
  
"You did. But when have I ever listened to anyone's rules?" He saw a glimmer of a grin on her face, but she stared up at him with cool eyes. At least it was a start. "Mind if I sit down?" He motioned to the chair across from her.  
  
"You're already here, I guess, and we all know you're impossible to get rid of. . .like a boil on the arse of humanity."  
  
Draco nearly sighed as his sat down. *Tough audience.* He thought. He took a deep breath. This would take a great deal of acting to sound believable. But it was logical. And Granger really worked off logic. This would have to succeed. "I want to explain myself. I want to explain why I. . ."  
  
"You called me a Mudblood." Hermione frigidly interjected.  
  
Draco nodded, leaning his arms on his knees and folding his hands in front of him. "I did."  
  
"Several times." She shot back angrily.  
  
He nodded again, calmly. "I know."  
  
"You're a bastard."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You. . .I beg your pardon?" Hermione said, taken aback.  
  
Draco mentally crossed his fingers. If he succeeded in this, he would deserve an award. "I was so wrong to call you that. It's a terrible phrase, to tell the truth. Perhaps it's a bad habit, something that's always just been acceptable to throw around. That's the way I was raised, you know. People in my family, in my neighborhood, they just called anyone they disliked that. It comes as easy as calling someone an idiot. But I know that you are nothing of what that word means. I really know that now. You're so perfect, and you deserve much more than being called that. I am so, so sorry."  
  
Hermione stuttered in shock. "But. . .I. . .Well what around Ron? And Harry?"  
  
"What can I say? You know that we have never gotten along. Now, just because I'm interested in you, doesn't mean I'm interested in them."  
  
"Understandable. But it doesn't mean you should still try to blast the brains out of my boyfriend's head."  
  
Draco nearly cringed at the term boyfriend. Ron wouldn't know how to act like a boyfriend if the rules were branded on his arse. But that was beyond the point. Draco had to continue. "That's true. I was wrong in doing that. And for saying what I did to Harry. Really it was just to get him riled up, get him off his game." Draco shrugged dramatically. "Potter still got the snitch, so I guess it didn't work much, did it?"  
  
Hermione smirked. Draco took this as a good sign and continued.  
  
"And besides, we're trying to keep this secret, aren't we?" He waited for her nod. When she reluctantly agreed, he continued, pausing after each question to see if she was thinking. "Well, if it's supposed to be secret, wouldn't you think it would be obvious if suddenly I was nice to my 'enemies'? Or if I just stopped using the language that I am known for? Or if I was caught supporting one of my foes instead of my girlfriend? Not that I fancy her much as a girlfriend; she's more of a large bodyguard- stalker." He saw the dawn of recognition on her face. Yes, logic had worked in her mind. And damn it if he says it, a little bit of jealousy in those eyes at the girlfriend remark? This was a success, indeed! "You see my point?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, I see your point. I suppose it's best that everything is kept under wraps. But. . .oh, I don't know. It's really taken quite a toll. I just feel so guilty doing all this. Harry's all upset that I'm acting differently, and I'm out and out betraying Ron. Really deceiving him. . .both of them. . ."  
  
"But they don't have to find out, if we play this right." Draco quickly interposed.  
  
Hermione looked up at him from the corner of her eye. He smiled at her somewhat sneakily, suggesting their proposed misconduct. And try as she might to fight it, her stomach tied in knots. She couldn't resist him, or the secrecy of the whole arrangement. There was something so exhilarating, so exciting about the way he looked at her and the threat of getting caught. She had her own little love, one who was willing to show for her what others could never see. Secrets were bad, she had always been told that. But she didn't care at this moment. *Sometimes secrets are a good thing for people,* Hermione decided. *Sometimes it can change a bad day to a good day, and a good day to a great day. Because you know something nobody else will ever find out.* As much as Hermione wanted to tell her friends about what was truly making her act so different, she just looked at Draco and it seemed a little worth it. Hell, with those eyes and that smirk and those strong arms, it seemed a shit load worth it.  
  
She smiled back at him, eyes showing a small bit of defeat. "Alright. We'll keep it private. No one needs to know. Are you happy now?"  
  
Draco flashed her a toothy grin, something he was uncommon with. But his face glowed, and Hermione loved it. "Very. I've got to go. Crabbe and Goyle'll be looking for me. Fat lards are damn near lost without someone to tell them which shoe to put on first. But I want you to have this. I think it will make you happy too." Draco pulled out the box from his right pocket, and placing it in the middle of Hermione's open notebook, bent down and kissed her cheek. He could just about smell her perfume.  
  
Draco quickly turned and left, pushing any feeling like that out of his head. He didn't care about silly things like her perfume. He had told himself that thirty times that morning. . .  
  
Hermione watched him leave, his masculine body striding out with an air of confidence. The great oak doors swung closed behind him, and she was alone again in the large library. Looking down at the table, she eyed the gift suspiciously. She half expected it to be one of the Weasley Twin's practical joke gag gifts. She toyed with the box in front of her before finally working up the curiosity and courage to lift the smell lid.  
  
Something flickered for a moment, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the light that hit the sapphire stones on the ancient looking necklace. Diamonds studded what appeared to be platinum, covering it so it glistened like morning snow. Small sapphire teardrops dangled in to a dip down to the center. There in the middle of the necklace was the most grandiose, stunning display of blue rock she had ever seen. Hermione lifted up the necklace in awe. That center sapphire had to be the size of her thumb knuckle, and a perfectly shaped teardrop as well, blue as the ocean itself. It was beyond stunning. It was perfection. It was hers. And he'd given it to her.  
  
She noticed a little yellow parchment note at the bottom of the box. Unfolding it, she read the scrawl.  
  
Hermione: For our little clandestine meetings. Tonight, if you'd like, or anytime hereafter. Just drop your quill in Potions for 'yes', and I will meet you that night in the second floor corridor. It's all up to you. All I ask is that you wear this. ~Draco  
  
Hermione looked at the sapphire necklace dangling in her hand and smiled. The light hit the facets and reflected her joyful look a million times. She quickly fastened the clasp around her neck. The center tear fell right in the curve of her clavicle. Her hand immediately went up to the stone, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. Strangely enough, she felt special. This was her secret, her own little fantasy. And Ron and Harry need not know. After all, it doesn't affect them in the least what she does during her nighttime. And she would be keeping them occupied as best as she could.  
  
She looked down at the note, the rich green ink impressed into the paper by a strong quilled hand. 'All I ask is that you wear this.' Hermione smiled to herself. *I wouldn't dream of wearing anything else. . .* 


	14. Clandestine Caught

A/N- This chapter was so much fun to write! Especially since I had my own "Draco" in mind! ::evil grin:: Oh I'm so bad! LMAO!  
  
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The only sound to be heard on the second floor corridor was the snoring of one rather rotund looking goblin in a gilt-framed portrait. The coats of armor were well into their silence, and the only one who noticed the moving figure down the hall was a wee scared mouse. Hermione walked down the dark corridor. She had become quite familiar with this route after the past three and a half weeks, sneaking off to meet up with Draco Malfoy.  
  
It was an odd polarity with him nowadays. During the day he would be the old Malfoy, mean and nasty, with his acid-tipped tongue. But somehow she noticed a difference in him. There was a look in his eyes she couldn't quite figure out, almost like a pulling between two emotions. He still called her a Mudblood, but with less frequency, and a touch more of a softness to the word. Not that it bothered her. Okay, perhaps it did. But she knew he was only doing it to keep attention away from them. It was all an act; she was sure of it.  
  
Sure of it because, at night, he was so different. Draco Malfoy would meet her in the corridor, looking dapper as usual, and escort her somewhere where Filch and Mrs. Norris would not find them. He'd shower her with compliments, and most of the time they would just talk, nothing more. That was becoming increasingly more difficult though, Hermione realized, since she had begun to daydream about Draco more often. And not proper daydreams at all. Hermione blushed at the thought. A little while longer and she might lose total self-control. She had already lost control of her quill in potions. She'd started to drop it nearly everyday, sometimes more than once. Hermione looked like a klutz to her friends, but Draco always saw the signals.  
  
Her friends. . . Harry and Ron were getting a bit much for Hermione to handle too. Harry had just about stopped speaking to Hermione after their little tiff in Hogsmeade. Now the most she ever got from him was "Please pass the pumpkin juice," and the occasional suspicious glance. She could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. He was trying to figure her out, what she was up to, what the secret was. And she knew it. And it scared her. She didn't want to lose what she had so far.  
  
And she had Ron. Hermione liked Ron, she really did. But where Harry didn't speak at all, Ron couldn't ever stop. He would talk to her about everything under the sun, mostly the inane, mostly him speaking. The most she'd ever been able to contribute to the conversations were an "uh huh" and the occasional "I see". When she'd say she had to go, Ron would look down heartened. But, thank Merlin, he never asked her where she was going.  
  
Hermione turned a corner on the corridor quickly, and crashed into something large and solid. She tipped backwards and landed on the floor.  
  
"Hermione?" There was a whisper. It was answered by her whimper. The figure knelt down next to her, and in the torchlight, she saw those blue-gray eyes. Her stomach fluttered. "Are you alright, Hermione?"  
  
She smiled up at him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just hurt my bum a bit."  
  
Draco shot an evil grinned back. "I could rub it and make it feel better." His hands moved to help her up, and he lifted her with ease. He lightly tapped her bottom, sent her a smirk, and began leading her down the hallway to an unknown destination.  
  
"I swear, you're horrible sometimes!" Hermione let out a slightly flirty giggle. "Although I suppose you can't quite help it."  
  
A confused glare was sent her way. "What do you mean? I can't quite help being horrible?"  
  
"No. . .no it's just that, well, with who you were brought up with and all, must've affected your sense of humour and you actions and all that, and. . ."  
  
"Are you saying that my family ruined me somehow?"  
  
"Well, no. . .not quite. . ."  
  
"Because you don't know enough about my family to make such accusations." Draco was suddenly walking very rigid. Hermione felt the tenseness of the muscles in his arm as she lay her hand there.  
  
"So then tell me about your family." She said softly, trying to placate him.  
  
Draco stopped and looked at her. Surely she would have heard about the illustrious Malfoy line. Nearly all the wizarding families in England knew of them. Then again, she was a Mudblood. She probably hadn't read a book on them yet. . .although she had taken out quite a few books in her day. Yes, Draco decided, she should know about his line, and why he was the way he was. He was pretty sure it wouldn't hurt the plan at all.  
  
"My family, the Malfoy line, can be traced back directly through seventeen centuries. We have relations to Merlin himself, to Morgan le Fay, to Druid kings in England and France. My family has altered history itself, and left an impression, whether accurate or not, that can still be seen today. It's something to be proud of. Something I should be proud of. Something I have to live up to. This family name is something more than a word. It's an honour. And it's been bestowed on me." Dear Lord, he sounded like his father. Draco raised his chin.  
  
Hermione looked up at him, in his crisp midnight blue shirt. He was from great people, and he looked great. But then why wasn't his family acting like that now? Now she tread on dangerous ground. "So what of your family now? Azkaban isn't exactly the place where proper witches and wizards go. . ."  
  
Draco shot his eyes down to her. This time the blue-gray was cold as steel, and he stressed every sentence like the sweep of an axe. "I want to make something very clear to you, and you let it be known to everyone. My father was a good father. He was a great man. And he should not be where he is today. He should be at home. Where he belongs. Do you understand? My dad should be home."  
  
Hermione, somewhat shocked and afraid, nodded slightly and softly replied. "Yes, Draco."  
  
"He was though." Draco looked toward to opposite was, unfocused and dazed. "He was a good man. He always treated me well, and cared for me like I was the only thing that was important to him. Anything for my happiness, he did it. He expected the best from me. Always expected the best. Because he gave me the best. And now we could lose him. And he shouldn't be lost. Not like that. Not to that place. He. . .he was a good man." Draco began to choke up.  
  
Hermione looked up at him with sad eyes. She knew how upset she would be if she were in his position. Reaching up, her hand met his cheek. It was the most tender thing he had felt in his life. "Oh Draco, you miss him, don't you? You miss your father."  
  
Draco looked down at her and let one tear fall. In the most honest reply, he just nodded.  
  
Hermione wrapped her arms around Draco's neck and hugged him. His hands went around her waist, and he buried his face in her shoulder and wept. It was the most remarkable thing Hermione could ever imagine happening. Draco Malfoy actually crying. With a Mudblood. She lifted her right hand to stroke the back of his head comfortingly.  
  
After a few minutes the sobs silenced. He wouldn't let go of her though. Suddenly she felt him start to lightly kiss her neck, up her neck, over the curve of her chin, till his lips met hers. Their tongues danced, and Hermione closed her eyes in bliss. He pulled away from her, studying her face, her throat, her features. Something was missing. A shiver went down her spine, and his left hand gripped her right wrist from behind his head. He pulled it in front of him, holding it tightly. Too tightly.  
  
"Where's the necklace?" He hoarsed out brusquely. "I don't see the necklace. Where is it?"  
  
"I. . .I have it. Here." Hermione reached up with her free hand and lifted the hanging of the necklace free from the confines of her shirt. The bright blue dazzled in the torch light of the empty hall.  
  
Draco eyed it with contentment. Without another word, he dropped his head down to the front dip of her neck, freeing Hermione's hand. She gasped as he once again began kissing down further, further, lifting the hem of her shirt up and over her head. The world was a distant place, and she was lost in the sensations he was providing. . .  
  
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"That's enough, Mr. Creevey. You may go. But let's remember that flash photography is not beneficial to Quidditch teachers who are trying to fly." Madame Hooch said sternly to the little boy as he walked out of the Quidditch Equipment room. That little one nearly killed her when he flashed a picture and blinded her, sending her straight into three bushes, a tree branch and one rather uncomfortable poke from a picket fence. The boy had spent his subsequent detention polishing every quaffle and snitch in the equipment room. She would have let lose the bludgers, but that would have just been cruel.  
  
The small Gryffindor was walking back down the silent corridors, neck heavy with the camera swinging from it. The lack of light was evident from the tall windows on the hallway, and there was that fat goblin, snoring as usual in his gilt-framed painting.  
  
But he heard something. Sounded like a wheeze. He looked over at the goblin's portrait. Nope, still asleep. This was something different. He heard the sound again, this time with a grunt. Nope, this was definitely not the goblin. This was around the corner of the corridor.  
  
*Oh boy! It's just like one of Harry Potter's adventures! I wonder what it is! Maybe it's a secret! Maybe it's an animal of some sort!* He heard another moan, unquestionably animalistic. It had to be an unknown species! Colin grinned to himself and fingered his camera. *Wait till Harry sees this! He's not going to believe it! I, Colin Creevey, will be famous for my discovery!* He began to tip toe down to the corner, raising the camera to his eye, finger tensely waiting for the right moment to turn. . .the. . .corner. . .and. . .  
  
Colin jumped the corner and gasped. His shocked hands shook, and the button was pressed on the camera.  
  
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::FLASH::  
  
Draco and Hermione pulled their lips away from each other. Hermione turned confused toward the burst of light. Another flash. Then she saw him.  
  
Little Gryffindor Colin Creevey standing at the end of the corridor, eyes wide, mouth agape, fingers clinging tightly to his camera.  
  
"Colin!" Hermione shouted in surprise, pushing back from Draco and hurriedly pulling down her shirt and skirt, absentmindedly flicking Draco's hand off her thigh. Draco's eyes shot down to the end of the hallway, and met with Colin's.  
  
The little blonde boy gave an even louder gasp, seeing the enemy of enemies to the Gryffindor house. Again his hand shook, accidentally pressing the button again, and the shutter clicked and there was another flash. With a petrified peep, the boy straightened up and ran like hell back down the corridor, hoping to find another route back to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
*Well this is an interesting turn of events.* Draco thought to himself, satisfyingly zipping up his school trousers and re-buckling his belt. He looked back at Hermione, who was frantically trying to button up her shirt the correct way. She looked up at him, letting her arms flop to her sides and let out a frustrated whine.  
  
"He got pictures, Draco! Pictures! They'll be around school in no time!"  
  
Draco frowned and shook his head in mock disappointment. But inside he was overjoyed. His plan just got a whole lot easier.  
  
"What do we do!? What do we say!? How do we stop them!?" She looked at him pleadingly. The all-knowing prefect did not know the answer now. She waited for his reply.  
  
Draco calmly put his hand up. "You don't have to do anything. Let me handle it. After all, he'll listen to me. I'm Draco Malfoy, remember? I can scare more under-years out of their pocket money." He noted a flash of cognition in her eyes, and he gave her a reassuring smile.  
  
"Thank you, Draco." She said somewhat more composed.  
  
He shrugged. "The benefits of associating with me. This will all be handled by tomorrow morning. You just go to bed, get some rest. I'll try to find that kid."  
  
Hermione smiled, satisfied that he had everything under control, and reached up to get a quick kiss. Her lips were soft, different from Pansy's, he noted, watching her hips sway slightly as she walked away.  
  
He casually placed his hands in his pockets and turned down the opposite direction, striding coolly down the hallway. What, did Hermione honestly believe he would go chasing after a little shit of a child? For something that was only going to help him? No, he had better things to do. Like sleep.  
  
And plan how he intended to handle the ensuing chaos.  
  
Draco smirked as he muttered the password to the Slytherin entrance and strode inside. He quickly changed out of his clothes and into his pajamas. Granted, he had been the one to make the moves tonight, but it was because she made him feel like he was losing control. She made him cry, for fuck's sake! He was whimpering like a pricked puppy! He had to assert himself as a man somehow. That's why he went for her like that. . .that's why. . .it had to be. . .  
  
Draco reassured himself as he lay down in bed. He couldn't worry about all that now. Now he needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be a very big day. 


End file.
